Night to Day
by nativedreamer
Summary: In the night she danced on the empty stage of the opera house to a music heard only in her mind. She thought she was alone and free. In the dark he watched her dance with reckless abandon and formed a plan... Not your average fan fic. EOW
1. Chapter 1 Hunger

**Chapter 1 Hunger**

She stood in the doorway watching sheets of rain fall, her wet hair hanging on her shoulders as she softly shivered. In front of her the water rushed through the street as forlorn horses labored with their loads against the tide. Drivers urged them on with shouting and whips.

She looked at the scene, half dumb from the damp cold. There was misery in her shoulders as if she were the one being whipped by the rain and the drivers. She would have turned away and gone to a drier place if she hadn't felt an extreme fatigue that had been mounting since she had arrived in Paris 10 days ago. It was the result of near starvation coupled with lack of sleep from dozing in dark alleys with one eye always open for a possible assault. The streets of Paris were dangerous for the homeless, especially so for women and children. She was without connections in this great city.

Her choices for survival were work or theft. She was too proud to steal or beg.

The last week had been spent looking for work, anything that would bring in a scant wage. She only needed a hovel and a little food. But there was nothing for her here.

The only job that she found was offered by an older man who wouldn't take his eyes off her breasts as he loudly explained what her work would be. Occasional spittle from his red lips hit her and the sly look he gave her as he raised his gaze to her face caused a churning in her gut and a tightening of her shoulders. Looking down the dark hallway towards the dimly lit room that was to be hers, she felt as if she was stepping into an iron cage in which he would surely be her jailer. He beckoned to her with a slight wave of his hand as he walked ahead. She watched his particularly peculiar gait, a kind of rolling motion that resembled a swagger crossed with the lumbering of his heavy frame. One glance at the room and she backed away. The strangling, near claustrophobic sensation was stronger here and she suppressed the urge to run back to the front door. Instead she slowly retreated with a wary eye on the man in front of her. His face had changed from a heavy complacent stare to something else that held a hint of danger. As she reached the entrance she turned quickly and with one swift motion of the door she was again on the street. Once there her shoulders began to relax and the wave of nausea in her stomach was gradually replaced by the sour, tight, empty feeling that had been her companion for the last three days.

Once the rain stopped and the streets partially cleared she'd be able to move on. But to where?

As she pressed her back to the doorway, she vaguely recalled a scrap of conversation overheard at the market place. While eyeing the fresh produce and baguettes of an outdoor stall, necessities that were beyond her reach, she heard someone state that a large establishment was reopening after being closed for over a year and that the hiring would start in a day or so. She turned to see who the voice belonged to but he was gone. That occurred yesterday, which in her current state of weakness and mental fog seemed like a month ago. If she returned to that market stall, maybe the owner would remember what had been said and by whom.

When the rain slowed to a drizzle, she took a deep breath to steady her legs, and moved away from the door.

Some of the stall owners had stayed through the day, waiting for the rain to clear. Regular clients that needed goods for their businesses would eventually come. The young woman threaded her way through the slick courtyard, looking from side to side in hope of recognizing a specific stall or face.

Under normal circumstances she possessed an extraordinary ability to retain detailed memories of events. She was blessed with a rudimentary type of photographic recall. But in her current weakened state she could barely keep her balance, much less remember details from yesterday. Stumbling, she caught herself and thought, _Even if I am fortunate enough to find the right stall and get the information I need, how will that information serve me? Who would hire an unknown person that can barely stand?_ These thoughts weighed on her as she scanned the courtyard. She approached a stall that had a familiar air to it. There was something about the owner's face that gave her a slight hope.

The man was putting fruit and vegetables into empty boxes and stacking them at the back of the stall. He was finishing for the day and impatient to get home. What a miserable day it had been! Even those who normally came to purchase necessities for their businesses, the cafes and boarding houses that he normally catered to, had been loathe to come out in this god awful weather. He was angry at the meager profits in his cash box. He had brought in his best produce to please the discriminating tastes of his customers and the value would be decreased when it was offered again tomorrow.

The damp of the day crept into his bones. His left ankle was aching as he swung a basket full of fruit into an empty, waiting box. He was wishing now that he could afford a room in town, but where would he keep his goods? He paused a moment and looked at the smooth surface of a piece of fruit, and then after running a finger along a break in its skin he plucked it out of the basket. He turned suddenly towards the front of the stall with an urge to fling that sorry object across the gray washed sky in protest of his bad luck. His quick turn startled the young woman who stood against the stall a scant foot or so away from his upraised arm. Surprised and a little embarrassed, he inadvertently stepped back a foot as his arm went limp and the fruit fell to the ground.

"Excuse me Monsieur, but were you at this location yesterday selling your goods?"

The young woman who stood in front of him had a haggard look. Her clothes were old and worn, almost ragged. He noticed how she had firmly held onto the front of his stall even as she swung her head back to avoid a glancing blow from his arm. _If she lets go, she will fall._

Beneath the bleak exterior of hunger and fatigue was a simple face, with regular features. She had a straight nose and an oval face that looked as if she'd been in the sun. He found her pale golden skin pleasing. It reminded him of the country girls of his province who laughed as they harvested fruit on sunny days. Her hair appeared black under the dull light of the rainy sky, but he guessed that on a sunny day it would be a rich deep brown with highlights dancing across it. Her eyes were the hardest part to describe—an unusual green not commonly seen in the landscape but more akin to the semiprecious stones seen on rich women's fingers.

"What is your name?" he blurted out.

Then he wished he'd held his tongue because of the way she looked back at him after his abrupt question. There was a fleeting look of something wild about her. He imagined that if she were to let go of the edge of the stall, she would quietly disappear. _Like a mythical creature that one glimpses in a dream,_ he mused.

She lifted her chin up slightly, and looked steadily into his eyes. "My name is Jade".


	2. Chapter 2 Shelter

Hello to all you wonderful reviewers. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. It's much less intense than the first chapter but it's laying the groundwork for the story. So if you liked the first chapter, you'll get more of that later on. Remember, this is a Phantom of the Opera story and I like my Phantom **INTENSE**.

**Disclaimer:** I did not invent the Phantom of the Opera character. However, all the other characters are my own with the possible exception of an occasional visit from Christine, Raoul, Madame Giry, Meg, etc. You all know whom I'm talking about.

Remember: READ and REVIEW (please, por favor)

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**Chapter 2 Shelter**

**_Jade._** The name rolled across his lips and he tasted it like a good French wine.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, mlle. Jade. My name is Pierre."

He bowed slightly, breaking his gaze. Then, shifting his weight back onto his heels, he looked again into her eyes.

It was as if his slight shift of posture had created a wave in the space between them. She felt her body give as her legs went out beneath her. She continued to look into his eyes with an intensely direct stare, and then she collapsed.

Suddenly, he was holding her up. As her senses began to fade, she looked at the sky and wondered absently if it would rain again.

With his arm around her waist, he quickly reached into the stand and pulled out a rough wooden bench that he placed in front of the market stall. Gently he sat her on the bench while watching her face. The drifting, far away look gradually receded. Slowly the color returned to her face.

"Mlle Jade, when was the last time your ate?"

She gave him an empty look. "Ate?" she said absently.

Jade leaned with her back against the stall, scarcely aware of the man who loomed above her. It felt good to be off her feet. She had been standing since awakening in the early morning hours when the rain began. Looking up at the sky, she saw a distant bird flying in slow dipping circles. Its calm movement was mesmerizing. Her head moved slightly in rhythm with the bird's slow sweeping flight. A release began to roll across her body.

Pierre looked at her carefully. When her strength appeared to return he gradually eased his grip and then he finally released her.

She was sitting there looking up at the sky. He wanted to lay her flat on the ground and let her rest but he didn't have a way to shield her from the curious eyes of strangers. He looked around and seeing an empty crate he placed it beneath her legs. _There! _He thought. _That should keep her from falling._

He returned to his work but kept a close eye on her. She continued to gaze upwards.

Waves of release swept her body. She forgot about her hunger. It felt so good to rest here and to feel her legs stretched out; to be able to close both eyes and drift.

From the stall came a soft melody that the man was humming. It was an old country tune that she had heard as a child. His voice was soft and deep with a tender quality that lulled her senses. It evoked peaceful feelings. She smelled the good bread that her mother made for their household, and heard the rustle of stiff fabric as she carried it to the table. She felt his smooth lips on her forehead…

The clouds were thinning and the rain had stopped. After the intensity of the day's storms the air had been wiped clean of the city's soot and dust and there was an increase in clarity of distant sounds. The city was renewed by the change. People moved briskly about, reclaiming the time lost during the inclement weather. The brick courtyard echoed the movements of merchants clearing out their stalls

Pierre watched her out of the corner of his eye as he packed up the remaining produce. He was trying to decide what to do. Should he stay in Paris tonight? Or should he make the trip to the inn and return in the morning? He felt oddly responsible for the young woman who had fallen asleep against his market stand. Could he persuade her to allow him to help? She needed a safe place to sleep and a dozen good meals. He knew that she had no reason to trust him as a friend and would probably reject any offer that was associated with risk.

He sighed and shook his head. These days his life seemed to be going through an unusual amount of change. Just yesterday an old friend who was working at the Opera Populaire visited him. The man asked Pierre if he would supply produce to the Opera Café. Also, the management needed skilled carpenters and other workers to renovate the theatre portion of the building. His friend was looking for steady reliable help for various departments of the Opera. The fire of the previous year and the preceding events had given the place a bad name that had handicapped his hiring efforts.

Pierre had listened intently. He could use the extra business.

Pierre pulled the cart to the stall and began loading the produce. He wondered how much extra money he could earn if he made an extra trip to Paris each week. It would be necessary to make arrangements with his neighbor to deal with certain matters at home, but that would probably be easy enough to do.

He looked at his small friend. Was she the sort of person who would prefer life in the city or would she be more comfortable in the countryside? She looked like somebody who wasn't afraid of hard work. The chance that she'd come back with him to his home was very slim. She wouldn't feel secure placing her life in his hands.

He stopped his work for a moment and recalled how she had looked at him when she told him her name. _Such an intense directness,_ he thought. _She goes right to the heart. There's no nonsense about her. Maybe that's why she's in the state that she is. No compromising._

A memory arose: the wild hawk that he had found in the orchard a couple of years ago. The bird had no evidence of an injury except that it couldn't fly. He brought it home with some difficulty since it was still strong enough to tear at his hands when he approached it. He fed it for a week, admiring its beauty and manner. Although flightless, it had a powerful grace. And those fierce eyes! They took you away from your every day life. They commanded an innate respect. Yes, it had been beautiful. He was sorry when it faded away from an unknown illness and eventually died.

He looked back at her and it suddenly came to him that something of what he felt for the hawk he also felt for this woman. That realization was a little disturbing. It crossed his mind that loving things that were truly wild was dangerous.

His work was done and she still slept. He approached her slowly and carefully so as not to startle her.

"Jade, wake up" he repeated several times. She stirred slowly, awakening from a deep sleep. At last her eyes opened. She looked towards his voice. Her eyes were dreamily half open and her face was soft.

"We need to get going. We only have several hours before sunset. Where would you like to go for supper?"

At that moment he had decided that it was best to act in a matter of fact way when he presented his plan to her. He wouldn't battle with the issue of trust. Rather, he would deal with things in a simple practical manner. Night was coming. They needed to eat. Then they would need to find a place to sleep for the night.

Jade sat up slowly. She still felt extremely tired but the nap had helped. Her stomach growled loudly.

"I don't have any money for food," she said. Her softness was gone. The strength had returned to her face.

Facing her, Pierre mentally braced himself and lowered his upper body slightly so that he was several inches shorter. Looking at her as directly as she did at him he said firmly, "you are not yet dead from hunger, but at the rate you're going you'll be there soon enough. I don't want to be part of that. I don't expect you to pay me back. I just want you to join me for supper tonight. We can go to a café that's just outside the market place. The food's good there and doesn't cost much."

As soon as he finished he straightened up and watched for her reaction. He said a little prayer to the Virgin Mary asking that common sense prevail.

Jade looked at Pierre and said nothing. Her face was expressionless. This man appeared to simply want to help her. She shrugged her shoulders briefly to show a reluctant acquiescence. What choice did she have? He was right about the starvation part. It would be stupid to turn down his offer. If there were to be consequences from his help she would have to deal with them when they arose.

Pierre asked one of his neighbors to watch his goods and then led the way to the café.

They had a simple wholesome meal. Jade ate slowly and carefully as Pierre watched over her. He had been a little worried that she would eat too much too fast since she wouldn't know when her next meal would come. Instead, she had placed more than half her food aside to take with her when they left the café. She rarely raised her eyes above the plate. There was no conversation between them.

As they left the café, Pierre looked to the south. In the not too far distance was the dome of the Opera Populaire. He pointed towards it and turning to her said, "I think there's work there if you want it."

Jade looked in the direction that he was pointing. The opera house towered above adjacent buildings and established itself as a dominant presence on the street.

A strange feeling ran along her spine as she looked at the massive building. It was a signal that something important would happen there. She'd had that feeling before, and it had always shown her where she needed to be. The last time she'd felt it was weeks ago when she chose to come to Paris.

She waited outside the café as Pierre returned to the marketplace for his cart. He had told her that he had business at the opera house and that he would walk with her there.

Turning towards the great building, she shut her eyes. In her mind she faintly heard an unfamiliar melody whose beauty caused her to smile. It came from the opera house. It was another sign telling her that for now, this place was her destiny.

When he returned, they walked together down the damp street as the opera house slowly rose before them.


	3. Chapter 3 Home

**Hello dear readers and esteemed reviewers. You are about to enter the opera house. The building in this tale is an amalgam of the one found in the ALW 20004 movie POTO, and the actual Opera Garnier, which currently exists in Paris. In addition, I've added a few of my own embellishments**.

**The Phantom will be making a cameo appearance in this chapter.**

**Again, if I may be so bold, I request that you consider leaving a comment (also called a review) when you finish this chapter. If you like, please write!**

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**CHAPTER 3 Home **

**After the clean swee**p of the rains the air remained soft and moist. The striking hooves of Pierre's cart horse clipped out a musical cadence that rang across the cobblestones as they walked down the street.

It was approximately a mile from the café to the opera house, normally an easy stroll. Not so for Jade. A brief surge of energy after her meal didn't last long. Once she started walking, her strength quickly disappeared. The fatigue dragged at her legs, which felt heavy and useless. Step by step her mood darkened. All she wanted to do was rest, as she struggled to keep up with the man who walked beside her. She would_ not_ be left behind.

Pierre cautiously watched his companion. He was prepared to grab her, and hoist her up on his cart if she collapsed again. He would have offered her a ride but he knew it would be rejected. The set of her jaw and the bone hard look in her eyes said that this was something she would do without help. He thought it rather absurd since it would have been easy enough for her to ride rather than walk. _She is proud, and stubborn_. _Irrational! _

They arrived, and stood in front of the enormous building. As Pierre led the horse to a side street, Jade sat upon a step to rest.

Slumping forward to ease her back, she grasped her ankles in a brief stretch. Then turning her head, she sat upright, and twisted her neck further. Her gaze lazily followed the tilt of her head, and she spied a corner of the opera house roof where a black object faltered in the breeze. Curious, she turned to see it better, but it had disappeared.

Pierre returned, and the two entered the building through the front entrance.

They stepped through the large double doors, and stood inside the grand foyer. It was a stunning room with a décor of rich gold and black. The gaslights lit up the room, and cast a bright sheen on the marble floor. Their footsteps echoed as they moved from the doors.

Jade gazed at the magnificent room that stretched out before her, and was enchanted by its elegance. She felt like a butterfly that after an exhausting struggle to emerge from its cocoon, lies on its first leaf, and breathes in the color of a glorious, new day.

The grinding fatigue lifted, as she stepped forward with slow, sure steps. She reached down, and touched the floor, feeling its smooth surface. _What a marvel it would be to stretch out on this floor, and feel its coolness on my cheek, _she mused.

A door opened, and a man approached them, asking about their business there. After a few words he left them to fetch Pierre's friend. Moments later, a sturdy young workman approached them, and said that he was to take them to the management's offices.

She regretted leaving the beautiful room. But as they walked down the large hallway, other sights caught her interest. There were rooms of plaster casts and costumes. One room was filled with enormous mirrors.

Jade almost floated down the long hallway, as she ignored her companions and her previous fatigue._ If only I could wander in this building alone through its forest of rooms and hallways. I would love to explore this place and get lost. Then I would have the satisfaction of finding my way home._

**Home.**

The young man's heavy steps resounded through the hallway as they walked behind him down the large, empty corridor. Pierre watched Jade's face, and noted the quick changes of curiosity and delight that crossed it as she peered into the various rooms. His delight was as strong as hers but for a different reason: for the first time he saw her joy escape from her guarded exterior.

They were let into a small office with western facing windows. The sun had begun to set, and it lit the walls with a rosy light. Jade chose a chair near the windows, and propped her feet up on a small stool. Sitting there with her eyes closed, she let out a long, contented sigh. A peaceful smile settled upon her face, as the blazing light painted her still figure with vibrant color. Pierre took a deep breath as he looked at her. _She's lovely! How quickly she changes, like a breeze._

They sat there alone until the sun faded, and the room grew darker.

The door opened, and a man entered.

"Pierre, how good it is to see you," he said, as he eagerly offered his hand to his friend.

"Good evening Jacque. I must say that you're looking very well. I'd like you to meet my friend, Mademoiselle Jade. Jade, please allow me to introduce you to Monsieur Jacque DuChant, manager of the Opera Populaire."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mademoiselle."

Jade stood in front of M. DuChant, and gave him her hand. She looked at him steadily as she tilted her head up to meet his eyes. He was middle aged, perhaps 40 or so, and she could see that he was assessing her. He looked older than Pierre. He was stouter, and had a business-like air to him. He showed no surprise as he looked at her. Since Pierre had introduced her as "his friend" she wondered if that would counterbalance this man's opinion of her shabby clothes.

DuChant _was_ assessing her demeanor and appearance. He knew that Pierre's introduction was a silent request that he do something for this woman. Pierre had a soft heart for lost causes. But he was also an astute businessman and could separate the two. If Pierre wanted him to hire this woman then he could trust that she was competent.

Quickly looking her up and down, the first thing he noticed was her shabby clothes. However, he approved of her bearing and the no nonsense way that she looked into his eyes. In fact, if she had presented herself in suitable attire, he would have easily mistaken her for a dancer. She carried herself with a natural grace, and held her head high. She was young, probably not much more than 20 years old. But her youth was an advantage since he was looking for a flexible attitude in his new staff. After the disaster of last year, most of the old employees had left, and finding reliable people had become difficult. He appreciated Pierre's suggestion that he hire this young woman. She looked on the weak side but he assumed that with rest and good food that would soon be remedied.

"Mademoiselle, are you by chance looking for a position here?"

"Yes Monsieur. I'm looking for work. I can start as soon as there is a position available."

Duchant nodded, and turned to Pierre.

The remainder of their time in the office was spent with the two men discussing Pierre's future deliveries to the café.

When they were finished, DuChant left the room, and motioned for them to follow. They walked down several long hallways, and up two staircases until they reached the staff quarters. DuChant stopped in front of a door, and after unlocking it, he ushered them into a moderately sized bedroom with scant furnishings. Turning to Jade, he handed her the key.

"Mademoiselle, this will be your room. You begin work tomorrow at noon. Feel free to join the staff for breakfast in the morning and lunch if you wish. Welcome to the Opera Populaire. Goodnight."

With that, he left the two of them alone.

Jade looked up at Pierre who had a bright look in his eyes. He appeared to be suppressing a smile. Sitting down on the one chair in the room, she glanced around at her new quarters, and took in its stark simplicity. Her feet were aching, her legs were leaden, and she felt absolutely dingy from her recent sojourn on the street. But it was over. Thanks to Pierre, she was now safe and employed.

She looked up at him, unsure how to express her gratitude. She wasn't accustomed to depending on others for her survival. _He has been very kind to me, and asked nothing in return. At least not yet_

Standing up, she faced him. She looked long and carefully at his face, searching for something that would help her proceed.

He stood before her with a kind look in his dark brown eyes, waiting patiently. _This is difficult for her_, he thought.

Finally, she slowly reached into a pocket in her skirt, and pulled out a small object. She took his hand, and placed the item on his palm.

He looked down at a tiny silver horse.

"Pierre, this has been my good luck charm for some time. Now that my luck has changed, and I am here, I give it to you, for the day when you may need it as well."

He closed his fingers around the charm, and after holding it for a moment, placed it into his left shirt pocket. Pressing it to his heart, he gave her a slight bow.

"I accept this as a token of our friendship, Mademoiselle Jade," he said with a warm smile.

Her lips moved slightly in response but didn't form a smile. He did notice a difference in her eyes. Not exactly warmth, but certainly less guarded.

Leaving her room, Pierre walked back towards his friend's office. As he strode the length of the hallway, he pressed his hand over his left shirt pocket, and felt the tiny horse burrow into his heart.

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The two men were in a sitting room that was adjacent to Jacque's office. They had some catching up to do over drinks and cigars. Pierre would spend the night in a room in the staff quarters. Part of his arrangement as a new employee would be to have a room there that he could use whenever he was in Paris.

Jacque was happy to have Pierre here for the night. He'd missed his old friend. Although the days of their childhood were long ago, they had managed to maintain a special closeness and trust. He was Pierre's senior by five years but it hadn't mattered much when they were growing up together. Pierre had always been more adventurous and brighter than the other village children. His innate ability to understand and respect the feelings of others had made him a good companion. Jacque had asked him several times to leave the orchards, and come to Paris. He seemed particularly suited to the subtleties of Parisian social life, and with the right contacts he could have made something of himself.

He wondered about Pierre's relationship with this young woman. He'd noticed the keen interest Pierre had for her, and wanted to explore that a little more with his old friend.

"So, how do you like your new position as manager of this great opera house?" asked Pierre. He was feeling relaxed and happy at the accomplishments of this evening. His new friend was safe up in her room, probably already asleep.

"It's hard work but I think it suits me," replied Jacque. He got up and poured another drink that he offered to his friend. "The hiring is going a little slower than I'd like, but since it was expected by the new owners, I'm not under any particular pressure to meet an unrealistic deadline."

"Why is hiring a problem?" asked Pierre. "This is a big city with many people who need work. A famous opera house should be able to pick and choose from many prospects."

Furrowing his brow, Jacque tried to find the simplest way through his tale. It was a fantastic story that he tired of telling. But it was a reasonable request from his friend.

"About a year and a half ago, there were a series of calamitous events that finally came to a head here. There was evidently a mad man living somewhere in the opera house, and he was harassing the staff and the managers. He blackmailed the former owners into paying him a high "wage" so that he wouldn't wreak havoc on the place. If he weren't placated, there would be timely "accidents" to various members of the cast and staff. A man was killed from a hanging that occurred in the middle of a performance. The managers and the patron tried to capture the fellow. He was quite mad by then but very clever. He had given them an opera that he had composed, and he demanded that they stage it! Furthermore, he had written the female lead part for a young diva, a Christine Daae that he was apparently enamored with. The opera was staged but with the intent to trap him. Instead, he killed the lead male singer, and kidnapped the diva in the middle of the performance. During his escape, he brought down the chandelier which caused a fire and the damage that we are currently repairing."

Jacque got up and stood by the liquor cabinet, and poured himself another drink. This story always made him thirsty. He hated this type of ridiculous drama. _Imagine. Stealing a performer in the middle of a performance and setting the house on fire! It's the kind of over blown drama that silly women love to read about. _And now he had to waste time convincing people that the matter was put to rest.

Pierre had a look of extreme discomfort. His eyes were wide as he heard his friend's tale.

"What happened to the man and the girl that he took?"

Settling back into his chair, Jacque answered. "The girl showed up a day later. She then left Paris with the patron. I've heard that they are married. I don't know what became of the man. He simply vanished, and wasn't heard from again." He shrugged as if to say that the whole thing was finished.

Pierre stood up, and walked to the window. It was an incredible story, and it bothered him that there wasn't a formal ending. The discovery of the mad man's corpse would have made him feel less uneasy.

"How can you be so sure that he's really gone?' he asked his friend as he faced the window. He was listening for the tone of Jacque's voice that might reveal a hidden knowledge about this matter.

Once again Jacque involuntarily shrugged as he thought about his friend's question. "It was the love for the girl that drove him mad, they say. Once she left, he left. There have been no signs of him since the fire. The police looked but never found a trace of him."

Turning to his friend, Pierre asked in a low voice, "the night of the fire, was that the last performance in the opera house?" He stepped in front of his seated friend, and looked down at him.

A thought crossed Jacque's mind, then he shook his head quickly to dismiss it. "It was the last performance but I don't think that's important. By every account, it was the girl that he wanted, and nothing else. Everyone said that she was a stunning beauty that sang like an angel."

Pierre sighed. His friend was practical and likely to reject the idea of a dangerous, lurking presence in the opera house. It was a fantastic story, the sort that might scare away some people from working here. He was glad that he would be visiting this place once a week. It didn't hurt to be cautious.

Suddenly an idea came to him.

"Jacque, I'd like to take a room close to Jade's."

Jacque looked at his friend with a smirk. Here it was, evidence of a possible tryst between the two of them. She wasn't exactly the kind of woman he would have chosen for his good friend but if that's what made him happy…

"Certainly, Pierre. It will be arranged by the time of your next visit."

Pierre went to his room as he thought of the events of the day. He kicked his boots off, and lay down on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head. The satisfaction that he had felt earlier in the evening was gone. He wondered what other secrets this place held. Was there a possible danger here for his little friend? After a few minutes, he rolled over on his side, and let the worry go. Without evidence of a malicious presence it was a pointless concern. As his friend said, the diva was gone. With her had left the man who was obsessed with her.

As his eyes relaxed and sleep closed in upon him, one last thought drifted through his mind. _He called himself O.G., which stood for Opera Ghost_…


	4. Chapter 4 Horses

**Hello dear readers and reviewers. Just a historical note for this chapter: a woman riding a horse in 1874 Paris would have used a sidesaddle if she was from an affluent class. Since my character is in the working class, and from the provinces, I've taken the liberty of having her ride astride in this chapter. My research supports the premise that a woman of the provinces who grew up with horses could have chosen to ride astride. As for her wearing breeches, I have a note on that on my bio page if you're interested in the history of women wearing pants.**

**Remember, you are all muses in training. I adore my muses and await your comments.**

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**Chapter 4 Horses**

Jade was lying on her back when she awoke. With eyes wide open, she stared at an unseen ceiling bathed in darkness. A luminescent line at the bottom of the door marked the hallway light. Rolling onto her side, she eyed the thin light, and wondered what time it was.

Placing her feet on the floor, she reached out for her clothes. _Gone._

_What happened last night?_

Oh, yes. They had taken away her clothes to wash them, or discard them. She wasn't sure which. They had brought her a bath and taken away those rags.

She'd entered the bath, and slid down until the warm water touched her chin. Then she'd done her best to stay awake in that soothing, all enveloping sensation. With toes jutting out from the suds, she'd smelled the rank, oily odor of her hair. The thought of the interview with DuChant and her sorry appearance had made her squirm a little. Thank God for Pierre and her deadening fatigue! Both had saved her from a sense of humiliation.

After drying her hair, and throwing on the robe they'd given her, she'd crawled into bed and felt a supreme gratitude for that warm, secure place. It was soft and luxurious after the dirty, dank alleys. Exhaustion took over, and soon she slipped away from the ten day nightmare that was her introduction to Paris.

Now she opened the door, and found a chair with clothes neatly draped across it. She looked down the hallway to see if anyone else was about. No one. _It must be late; everyone's at work. _ Bringing the clothes inside, she lit the gaslight. In the harsh, flat light, she held the dress up to herself and gazed into the enormous mirror on the wall.

_Lovely cornflower blue color and an eccentric design, _she thought. Was it a costume? She handled the rest of the clothes in the pile: chemise, corset, under garments. Grimacing, she picked up the corset and placed it in the dresser. _An abomination._

Her hair was knotted and tangled so she worked it with a comb while facing the mirror. What a luxury to have this giant looking glass! Turning to check all sides of her dress, she studied herself for a moment and then did a quick, tight pirouette. Glancing in the mirror at her flushed cheeks, she winked at herself, and sped out of the room to the offices below.

DuChant was absent from his office. However, when she inquired as to his whereabouts, his secretary handed her a note that was addressed to her.

**Mademoiselle, **

**Pierre explained to me that you might need a couple of days rest before you begin your work here. Therefore, you will not be expected to report to work until Monday morning at 8AM. At that time, please report to Mme. Truffaut who will explain what will be needed of you. Until then, feel free to visit the café for your meals.**

**M. DuChant**

Pierre! Even though he was gone, he was still watching over her.

It was 3PM. He would be gone by now. He said that he would leave in the early afternoon to return to his home, and would be back in Paris next Friday. It was Saturday, and she wouldn't see him again for nearly a week.

Then again, if she ran to the market, she might catch him as he was leaving.

Jade flew down the hallways, retracing her steps from yesterday. Exiting through the front doors, she moved quickly up the street. The day was sunny and bright and the streets were full of traffic. Passing the café that they had dined in yesterday, she rushed to the market place. Once there, she looked in all directions for the familiar figure, and eventually found his empty stall.

Disappointed, she turned back to the opera house and reflected on the strength of her feelings. It wasn't like her to form a quick attachment to someone. As she thought of Pierre's warm smile, she realized that she was looking forward to their next meeting. They were strangers and yet he had treated her as a very dear, old friend. When she gave him the charm, she felt that he knew how much that gesture meant to her. _How rare it is to feel understood, _she mused.

Jade slowly walked back to the opera house, and enjoyed every step and sight on the way. This was a marvelous place to be, here in the center of the city. The place throbbed with activity. The street had a heavy flow of carts and carriages. The sidewalks were thick with men, women, and children of different social stations walking along side each other. It reminded her that she now lived in a large city with all types of people.

Along the avenue were shops of all sorts offering necessities and specialty items. One was selling riding clothes. She stopped in front of the window, and admired the breeches and the white crisp shirt that accompanied it. It had been an eternity since she had last been on a horse.

Continuing down the street, she soon arrived at the opera house. Instead of entering through the front doors, she walked down the small side street where Pierre had gone yesterday with his horse and cart. As she approached the side door to the great building, the sharp neigh of a horse rang out from an entrance further down the street.

Leaving the bright, warm day behind, she stepped into the dim shadows of the opera house stable. The scent was sweet and dusty, and smelled of horses, hay, straw, and manure. It all smelled wonderful. High, well built stalls lined both sides of the stable.

Jade approached the first stall on the right. Inside she found a big, chestnut gelding that was facing away from her. He was nosing his bedding and looking for a stray piece of hay. As she clucked to him softly, his ears turned towards her followed by his head. Walking slowly to her with an easy rolling motion of his shoulders, he pushed his head out of the stall to greet her. His big eyes softly met hers, as they stood looking across at each other—she the small human and he the enormous animal. Then she stepped forward, placed her hand to his nose, and rubbed it gently while speaking to him in a quiet, happy voice. She offered him a mouthful of hay, which he greedily pulled from her hands.

"Good boy" she murmured as she stroked the sides of his head. " Would you like to go for a ride?"

Looking around, she saw bridles, halters and other tack hanging on pegs in one massive display near the stable entrance. She poked around in neighboring trunks and found an old pair of leather breeches that were small enough for her to wear. There was no evidence of a stable hand or manager. Where was the staff?

Exploring further, she went through a side door that led to an exercise yard. It was a good-sized area with one large pen and two smaller ones. At the corner of the yard a path led away, probably to a nearby riding area.

Reentering the stable, she noticed some work clothes of various sizes hanging near the feed area. Taking down a small shirt, she found a private spot, and quickly changed from into the clothes she'd gathered. When she finished, she peered down the wide hall.

There was still no one else about. As she listened to the occasional snort and footfall of the horses she considered what sort of trouble she might get into if she rode without permission. _It's worth it,_ she finally decided. _If I weren't meant to ride, there would have been someone here to stop me._

Emboldened by her reasoning, she entered the stall. Placing a bridle on the chestnut, she led him to the large pen. Using an old, wooden bench to stand on, she slung her leg across his back, and mounted him. He stood motionless, waiting for her signal. _A real gentleman, _she thought. With a clicking sound and gentle pressure from her heels, she urged him to start.

Effortlessly, she put him through his paces. As they loped around the pen, a peace welled up inside of her. _What is it about horses? _She mused. There was a feeling of absolute serenity as she felt another's rhythm beneath her. It was like dancing, but different. Maybe it was the feeling of power coupled to an element of unpredictability—the possible stumble, the horse suddenly taking control when least expected. She loved the potential risk as well as the communion with the animal. It was living on the edge, or as close to it as a woman could experience.

After they finished, she brought the horse back to his stall and groomed him. Then she wanted one more go, so she walked along the aisle looking into each box. Towards the end of the stable, she found a white Arabian mare. Her warm, intelligent eyes seemed to dare Jade to ride her.

Intrigued, Jade took her out to the pen, and sensed that this would be a different ride from the first. Sure enough, she was only on her for about five minutes when she felt an almost imperceptible change beneath her. Then there was a break in the rhythm of the stride, and a quick turning, spinning motion of the horse. A less experienced rider would have been thrown. However, Jade held on without effort, nearly melting her body into that of the mare, matching her own rhythm with the one below. She corrected the horse swiftly and firmly. They continued the workout, and once more the white horse tried to unseat her. Again the mare was corrected, and they continued.

When the ride was over, she led the mare back to the stall, groomed her, and then prepared to leave. She had just finished changing back into her dress when a man entered from the dark hallway at the end of the stable. He looked at her briefly, and began to feed the animals.

Leaving the stable, she entered the back passages that led to the main building. The dim, quiet corridors were soothing as she hunted for a familiar landmark. After a time, she found the hallway that led to the staff quarters, and from there went to her room.

While facing the mirror, she finished the food that she'd brought yesterday from the café. She was thinking of the passages that led from the stable to the opera house. _Tomorrow I'll explore those corridors and beyond. _She wondered what secrets this great building held. Maybe there were architectural plans in the management's offices that would give her an idea of its complexity. Still, upon reflection, she decided that it would be more interesting to simply wander from passage to passage and see what she might find.

Humming a tune, she left her room, and made her way to the opera café.

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He was standing on the roof of the opera house, listening to the muffled sounds from the street below. Lately, he had been coming here often, following an unprecedented urge for afternoon sun. Although the desire was out of character with his normal habits, he obeyed it. He had learned many years ago to respect his intuition, and the strange inclinations that at times led to discoveries. _The right place at the right time, _he thought.

Surveying the grounds below, he heard the rhythmic pacing of a horse in the vicinity of the exercise pens. Looking over the parapet, he saw a horse and rider moving in slow circles in an exercise session. He didn't recognize the rider. _A new boy,_ he assumed. Whoever he was, the lad knew how to sit a horse. His body was completely relaxed as if he had been born on one. He was riding bareback. When the horse and rider completed the turn, and approached him, he saw the rider's face, and his eyes widened. It was a woman riding.

He recognized her as the woman he'd seen yesterday on the front stairs of the opera house. He had watched her and her companion walk down the street, and stop in front of the building. She had looked very tired, and had walked with some difficulty. The man next to her had hovered close to her as if he were protecting her. He'd wondered what their relationship was, husband and wife, relatives? Her clothes were worn and his were simple but well kept. That disproved a spousal relationship. As she sat on the steps, and stretched her muscles, she had inadvertently glanced his way. She had swung quickly around to see him better but he had dodged her gaze.

Now here she was, riding one of the opera horses, looking relaxed and refreshed as if one night's sleep had transformed her.

He approved of the way she was handling the animal. She was giving signals to the horse with her hands and body and leaving the reins still. She was ignoring the bit. He was glad for that. Bridles with bits were rough and often a cruel way to control a horse; used by people who generally had no business being on top of them.

She dismounted, and left the pen. Curious about what was happening, he quickly went below. Moving secretively, he entered the stable just in time to see her lead the white mare out into the exercise yard. He frowned when he saw her choice. The beautiful mare was difficult to ride. The horse nearly always threw riders during their first ride. _If that fool girl had asked someone, they would have warned her off._ He positioned himself so that he could watch the inevitable tumble while still remaining unseen.

After five minutes into the workout, he noted the mare's subtle change in stride as she kicked her left front leg out slightly to the side. _There, that's where she gets the balance she will need to do her spinning pivot. _The mare did her trick, and the girl stayed on. She corrected the mare quickly, and without excessive force. He smiled as he watched. Had she known or was she just lucky? Shortly after, the mare repeated the maneuver. This time he watched the rider carefully, and saw the slight dip of her shoulder that exactly matched the mare's shift. Once again, a timely correction followed.

He noticed that in spite of the fact that the girl rode a difficult mount that had twice tried to unseat her, that she barely touched the reins. _She knows what she's doing, and she's not afraid._

Afterwards, he watched her leave the stable, and pass the stable hand without acknowledging him as she made her way into the opera house. As she moved along the passageways he followed her. Moving gracefully, she showed no sign of the prior day's fatigue. In the staff quarters, he noted which room was hers, and quickly entered the hidden passage that lead to her room. She was in a room that he had access to via the two-way mirror. Standing next to the glass, he watched her finish her meal as she looked thoughtfully into the mirror with her gaze directed several inches above his left shoulder.

When she left, he turned away, and walked towards his home. It had been mildly entertaining, watching her. His routine boredom was interrupted by the novelty.

Soundlessly he traveled down the passages to the underground lake. Stepping into the narrow boat, his black cape caressed its sides as he turned, and pushed away from the bank. While gliding across the still water, he thought about the white mare and the confident figure that rode her. It might be worthwhile to occasionally check in on this new resident of his opera house. Perhaps there would be other surprises associated with this unorthodox, young woman.


	5. Chapter 5 Gillian

**A small historical note: in 1874 the construction of the Opera Garnier had not been completed. That occurred in 1876. There was probably not a parkway behind the opera house with a bridle path and green lawns.**

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**Chapter 5 Gillian**

The little girl was struggling with the broken laces of her dancing shoes. She sat on the floor with one leg pulled to her chest as she fumbled with the ties. Desperately, her arched back and small hands shook with the effort to repair the damage. The shoes were old, and this was bound to have eventually happened. The fact that she was alone here and completely vulnerable was causing her to panic. As her fear escalated into terror, she began to drown.

_He will come now. He will come and take me away._

She tore at the laces, and tried to remove the tattered shoes. Anything to free her feet so that she could run down the empty hallway and join the others. Her whimpering became a moan and tears followed. Shallow sobs escaped from her chest.

_Quiet. He will hear._

But her sobs had a life of their own and wouldn't obey her.

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Jade walked the halls of the opera house after another night of long, delicious sleep. It was Sunday morning and near the lunch hour. She was taking an indirect route from the staff quarters to the opera café as she familiarized herself with her new home. Today she would explore the network of back passages that skirted the main areas of the building. Once there, she would be completely alone without the distractions of people and their curiosity.

Yesterday, she had been alone as well with the exception of her brief conversation with M. DuChant about the horses…

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"Now, tell me again, what it is that you wish to do with the horses, Mademoiselle." DuChant's face had a look of disbelief, as if her proposal was too extraordinary to comprehend.

"M. DuChant, I am requesting that you allow me to exercise the opera horses whenever I have free time. I have been riding since I was a child, and I have a good seat. I believe I can handle any horse here that is saddle trained. You seem to be short staffed in the stable area. I could be of assistance by offering this service without charge to the management. If you have any doubts as to my abilities, I would appreciate it if you would allow me to demonstrate my riding skills to you."

She looked at him calmly as if this was a perfectly normal and reasonable request. There was no point in acknowledging or working around his disbelief. He was obviously laboring under the notion that women didn't do this sort of thing. Well, she would be doing it, with or without his permission. If she needed to take a horse out in the dead of night, she would do it. But it would be easier if he agreed.

DuChant looked at her, coolly assessing the situation. He was short staffed in the stable area. The horses were not being used much at this time except to pull carts and the occasional carriage. A handled horse was more docile and better for work. But, if she took an animal out and broke a bone, Pierre would be furious with him. He was like a mother hen around this one, so protective. There was also the fact that she was a woman. Women weren't used as exercise boys. Then again…

He made up his mind quickly.

"Alright, Mademoiselle. I'll meet you at the stable tomorrow at one o'clock. You can show me then."

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It was nearly eleven. In two hours Jade would be meeting with DuChant. Hopefully, it would be relatively easy to convince him that she could be trusted with the horses. She wondered how long she would be able to use Pierre's influence to get what she wanted from her employer.

She approached the ballet rooms. The place was deserted since everyone was at lunch. The large hallway was silent except for…what was that sound? _There it is again._ A faint hiccoughing sound, as if the owner was trying to hide it from the world. Curious, she slowed down as she came closer to its source. To her left was a large room that looked like a ballet classroom since it had very little furniture but several large mirrors on the walls. In the corner was a small figure bent over, frantically pulling at something near her feet. The child was softly sobbing, and shaking from her efforts.

Jade stepped forward a few feet, then spoke to the child in a clear, calm voice.

"My dear, what is the matter?"

Startled, the little girl quickly looked up. Her mouth rapidly opened and closed as if she was trying to scream, but couldn't. Her eyes were wild. As they settled on Jade, within a few seconds she began to calm down. Her shoulders shook with a quivering sigh, and she weakly rose to her feet.

Jade approached her with a gentle smile. Reaching out her hand she touched the top of the little girl's head, and softly stroked her hair, which was flaxen and nearly white. The child looked up at her, and moved closer as if she hoped for reassurance. Jade bent down, and surrounded the girl with her arms. She felt the small body shudder in her embrace and knew it was a final release of the pent up fear. She continued to stroke her hair, and then quietly spoke to her.

"What are you doing here by yourself, my dear child?"

Sniffling, the girl pulled away briefly to look up into her protector's face.

"I, I…they left, and my shoe broke, and, and, I had to fix it…" Then she buried her head again into Jade's stomach.

"Let me see," said Jade.

A small foot was pushed forward with the broken laces that were soiled and wet. Jade knelt down, undid the laces, and removed the ballet shoe. Then she rubbed the tight little feet that were swollen. Looking up into the girl's eyes, she smiled again, and the child responded with an openness that softened her features. Her breathing was returning to normal, and her face was losing its high color.

"Where are your other shoes?" The child shyly pointed to a corner as she nodded a silent yes. Jade fetched them, and then put them on her.

"There. I think we're ready for lunch. Don't you?"

They left the classroom together hand in hand. By now, the girl felt light hearted enough to make a slight skipping motion as she walked. Jade looked down at the bobbing head with affection.

"My name is Jade. What's yours?"

The child gazed up with a smile. "I'm Gillian. Do you live here? I live upstairs in the dormitory. I hope we get a dessert today. I love dessert. Especially pie." The child chattered for the next couple of minutes.

"Well, Gillian. I would like to know why you were upset back there in the ballet room. Did something frighten you?" Jade watched for signs that talking about the incident would upset her. She didn't want that look of terror back in the child's eyes.

Gillian hesitated, and then decided that she could tell her new friend her troubles.

"I, I, didn't want him to come and take me away."

"And who would do that, my dear?"

"The Opera Ghost. He takes away children, and hurts them."

"Who told you that, Gillian?" She was beginning to recognize another version of the boogeyman. Some unkind older child had probably made up a story that she could use to dominate, and terrorize the younger children.

"Mademoiselle, everybody knows about the Opera Ghost. He lives here. He hurts people when he's mad." Gillian's light chatter had taken a turn towards the serious. She looked up at Jade, and nodded her head with emphasis. "He started the fire that hurt people. He made people leave. He took the pretty lady away."

_Well, this is a little more complicated than the boogeyman story_, thought Jade.

As they continued to walk through the opera house, the child entertained Jade by reciting all the attributes of the Opera Ghost. He could walk through walls, he lived beneath the opera house, he could fly, he didn't have a face, etc. Jade suppressed a smile as she listened with a serious face. The child was completely relaxed and really _enjoying_ the tale, now that she didn't feel threatened. _What an imagination, _thought Jade as she laughed to herself.

They arrived at the café. Jade took Gillian to the adjoining eating area where most of the staff and cast took their daily meals. The room was only half full since there were still many positions at the opera house that needed to be filled. Across the room was a large table where the ballet children were seated. There were approximately twenty tiny ballerinas squirming in their chairs, and talking excitedly amongst themselves. In the midst of them sat a woman who was in her mid twenties. She was busily sorting out the plates and silver ware when Jade and Gillian joined them. The child took a seat next to a friend who squealed with delight when she saw her.

"I found one of your charges alone in the classroom. Did you miss your lost charge, Madame?" Jade looked hard at the woman with tight lips, and waited for a reply.

The woman glanced at Gillian, then back at Jade. A slow blush covered her face. She shook her head in embarrassment, then got up, and walked to Jade's side.

"Thank you for bringing her to me. I have been very negligent. I should have known that she was missing. I took this position three days ago, and I'm still trying to remember all their faces. But that is no excuse. It's my responsibility to keep track of each child. I am very grateful that you found her, and brought her to me."

She blushed a little more deeply after her speech, and looked sincerely sorry for her mistake.

It was an unfortunate error and hopefully it would not be repeated. But there was no intentional unkindness or thoughtlessness here. Jade nodded her head briefly. Perhaps a word later to the woman about the child's fear would help her memory. Gillian was settling in, talking with her friends, and eagerly filling her plate.

Jade sat at a table by herself, and ordered her lunch. The café had a pleasant, noisy air to it, with a mix of staff and cast. She needed to ask someone when rehearsals would begin. She was interested in watching the ballet. Did they use the child dancers or were they only in training? Jade looked again across the room for that small face. Their half hour of communion was over. The little girl was safe now, entrenched in her routine. _She doesn't really need me, after all, _she mused. With that thought, she felt a sad little tug at her heart. Then, turning to her meal, she smiled when she noticed that there was pie for dessert.

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Paul Rascon, the stable manager, and DuChant were standing near the stable entrance as Jade walked towards them. Neither noticed her, which gave her the opportunity to study both men. Rascon was talking, and making large, descriptive gestures as he spoke. His hands cut through the air with quick and sharp motions. He appeared to be an impatient man. His arms were well muscled, and he had a medium build. DuChant was listening to him with a look of respect.

Together, they glanced her way. If DuChant had any curiosity in what she was about to do, he hid it well. His eyes showed a noncommittal disinterest as he greeted her. Rascon regarded her with controlled disdain as he met her eyes. As she drew near to him, he straightened up to maximize his height, and stared down at her coldly.

"Good day, Messieurs," she said lightly. Boldly, she walked past them into the stable, and helped herself to a bridle. Laying it on a barrel, she went to the trunks, and searched for the leather breeches that she had used the previous day. Finding them, she also took the small work shirt that completed her outfit. Stepping into the chestnut horse's stall, away from their view, she changed her clothes without so much as a backward glance. As she left the stall, the two men were looking at her: DuChant with surprise and Rascon with a cold glare.

"Messieurs, your time is important. I'd like to get started with my demonstration. Please show me which horse you would like me to ride."

DuChant hesitated. There hadn't even been an introduction. He was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. He noticed the hostility that Rascon had for this young woman but he had to admit that she had piqued his interest. So he nodded to Rascon to pick a horse.

Rascon was sizing her up. He didn't like the idea of having a woman around the stable. This was _his_ place where he didn't need to hold back or mind his manners. Even if she came in only occasionally to satisfy a whim, he would still lose valuable privacy. It didn't escape him that DuChant had come to watch her ride. There was patronage here, and it would be foolish to ignore it. His only hope to get rid of her was to give her a mount that would make short work of her ride without doing much harm. He had a particular horse that could do the job.

He led her to the white Arabian mare at the end of the stalls.

Jade smiled. _This is too easy, _she thought a little smugly.

Placing the bridle on the mare, she led her to the side door that opened into the exercise yard. Rascon had reached for a saddle but she shook her head 'no'. _Suit yourself, Mademoiselle, _thought Rascon with satisfaction. She opened the large pen, and mounted the horse.

It was an uneventful ride. There was no trick today from the mare. She settled in quickly, and followed her rider's signals effortlessly. Ten minutes into the ride, Rascon turned away with irritation. Jade finished with the horse, and changed back into her dress.

DuChant was quick enough to know that he had missed something, but was unsure as to what exactly had happened. He made the tardy introductions, then bid them farewell.

Rascon immediately turned away, and ignored her. He moved about the stable preparing feed buckets for the horses. Hostility permeated the air.

It was clear to him that she had ridden the mare before, but when? It had to have been some time when he was out of the stable in the last couple of days. DuChant said that she was new, and had only been here for a day or so.

She watched him for a moment, and then decided to leave. His trick having failed, he was definitely angry with her. _The best I can do is stay out of his way. We won't be working together so that should be easy enough, _she reflected.

Jade decided to stretch her legs, so she strolled down the bridle path she'd seen earlier. It would be a lovely place to ride. There were large cedars bordering the path and wide stretches of well cared for green lawns. The clouds had gathered in the sky, and were merging and separating as if performing an elaborate dance.

To come here at night and see the moonlight blanket the ground would be magical. _Do the ballet children ever come here? _She imagined them dancing together under the full moon in their gossamer costumes, delicate and beautiful.

On her return to the opera house, she passed the management offices. As she glanced in, M. DuChant's secretary beckoned to her, and asked her to wait a few minutes for the manager.

While sitting in DuChant's office, Jade noticed a pile of envelopes on the desk. One was half buried and had a strange seal on it. It looked like a death's head. _How odd, _she thought, as she stared at the grisly face.

A moment later, DuChant entered. He gave her a measured look, and sat down at his desk.

"Mademoiselle, I have been asking around since your demonstration at the stable, and have come to find out that riding that white mare is no easy task. You have the singular honor of being the first rider who has not been thrown by that horse on the first time out. Therefore, you are either an exceptional rider, or you have ridden her before."

Holding her head high, she looked at him deliberately, and then answered. "Both, Monsieur. I rode her yesterday, and she tried twice but did not throw me."

DuChant nodded his head. He was unhappy with the trick that Rascon had played on him. He had new doubts about the man. If he went to this length to subvert a simple request from management, what else would he do?

"I suspected as much Mademoiselle. Since you are a very competent horse woman, would you consider working part time in the stable? I estimate that it would be approximately a half to a third of your work time. I will speak with Mme. Truffaut tomorrow about what other work she would like you to do. You can give me your answer tomorrow."

Waving his hand to dismiss her, he turned to his desk.

Jade watched the strange envelope disappear as DuChant rearranged the stack of papers. She left the office thinking about this new turn of events.

A half hour later, DuChant's offer was still on her mind. She decided that she would need to sleep on it.

She didn't explore the back passages as she had intended earlier in the day. Instead, she went to the auditorium for the first time. Sitting in the great room, she took in the magnificence and the destruction caused by the fire. It seemed fitting that the two should coexist. After all, this was a place of great drama and high emotions.

_What would it have been like to be here when the chandelier descended? _She wondered._ A horror for those injured. Awe inspiring for those unharmed who had the presence of mind to look up as it fell._

For the third night in a row, she retired early. As she lay in her bed, she thought of Gillian, and hoped that the little girl would feel safe tonight.

Clasping her pillow, she rolled onto her side, and fell asleep. Throughout the night, she dreamed of chestnut and white colored ponies prancing in the moonlight, with a small child dancing between them.


	6. Chapter 6 Phantom

**Chapter 6 Phantom**

His long, lean legs stretched out as he reclined in the chair. On the rosewood table beside him were piled the discards of his interest: dozens of books that he had recently perused, and tossed aside after a quick digestion of their contents. Amid the clutter, a Chinese vase held a delicate orchid, a recent import casually acquired. Its plump white tint curled across the petal's surface abandoning the edges to a blush of rose. The room he sat in was boldly lit with candles reflected from a hundred pieces of mirror, as the light flung itself across the room.

He closed his book and rose. Opening the door that led to the outside, he stood in the doorway, and gazed in the direction of the lake. The moist air touched his cheek, and entered his home—the only visitor he cared to welcome. The vast darkness of the cavern pressed against the brilliantly lit room, and then pulled away as it beckoned to him.

Turning, he casually picked up his cloak, and stepped into the night.

Pushing the small boat away from the shore, he effortlessly propelled it through the dark water. While moving across the underground lake, he reflected on the last year of his life.

With a clenched jaw, he recalled the tedious and joyless existence that had been his life since Christine had left him.

Since her untimely departure, he had used constant motion to keep his mind and spirit from becoming dangerously numb. He had established a machine-like, brutal rhythm in his life, which had driven him to walk, swim, and leap among the opera house rafters. Movement generated its own purpose, and although that purpose was devoid of beauty and satisfaction, it had kept him alive.

Beneath his well-tailored suit were rock hard muscles. He had gotten physically stronger in the last year from the endless activity. But his sleep had suffered. Typically, he awoke a half dozen times in the course of a night. The insomnia gave his normally sharp senses an unworldly edginess.

As the months passed, the endless cycle of grinding routine became second nature. The only interruptions were his books and research, as he continued to follow the new thoughts and trends of his time. Discoveries in science, architecture, and the arts were at best meager stimulants for a lonely mind.

And then suddenly, the opera house returned to life. After a period of mourning, Paris renewed its interest in the great structure, and plans were made to reclaim the space. The bustling activity in the formerly empty halls caused a surge of energy that penetrated the depths of the building. It shook the grayness from the air, and aroused his interest.

The boat touched shore, and he leapt from it. Traveling along the rough, stone floor, he quickly moved along the black passages, as he climbed to the upper floors.

In the year that he had been alone in the opera house, it had been a strange holiday. No need for stealth or cat-like movements as he walked the halls. He had never known such freedom! At first he had almost regretted the sight of people returning to the Opera Populaire. But as more came, he carefully watched their comings and goings, and quickly determined who would be useful to him.

Weeks passed, and his interest in people was renewed. He'd almost forgotten how foolish they could be. Human activity was a play that occasionally offered choice performances that piqued his curiosity.

Leaving the passage, he stepped into box five, and gazed across the waves of red velvet seats in the auditorium below. The stage was nearly repaired. His large shoulders slid beneath his cape as he turned with his gray-green eyes peering across the room. He could see the future, and in it, this room would be filled with the new Paris elite who waited for the next tour de force. _What will the first production be, and who will perform?_

If he chose to make his wishes known to the current management, he would do it differently this time. Some self-restraint was in order. The tyrannies of the old Opera Ghost had provoked anger and revenge. He had been fortunate that the mob hadn't found his home after the fire.

Closing his eyes, he leaned slightly back, and inhaled deeply. There was a fresh smell to the place. It had been aired out and the smoky odor had diminished. He could faintly smell the large floral arrangements in the grand foyer. Opening his eyes, he gazed intently at the stage.

He remembered the arias that brilliant singers had performed there. One diva's voice in particular rang out, and separated itself from the crowd, unbearably sweet and haunting.

_Christine._

Her lovely face floated into his mind. Mercifully, it no longer tore at his heart.

After a year of mourning, he had given up his dream of a beautiful, loving companion who would inspire, and comfort him. Christine had taught him the futility of that dream, and she had taught him well. He had buried his desire to have a mate, a lover. He had buried the dream in the grave of his heart, and had sung a Requiem for the joys and pleasures that would never be.

He thought of the people who now shared the opera house with him, and smiled sardonically._ They will be little more to me than interesting research. And if I'm fortunate, there will be an occasional surprise that will entertain._

Swiftly, he moved silently along the adjacent hall with alert eyes peering ahead. His long legs ate up the ground as he headed towards the roof.

He had developed a taste for sunsets in the last week. It was time to indulge his senses.

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On Monday morning, Jade met with Mme. Truffaut, an older woman in her fifties with a stiff figure. Her corset looked as if it had been bound too tightly, and had squeezed every inch of softness out of her frame. She was a tall and imposing woman, and was accustomed to being obeyed.

"Mademoiselle, what other work have you done?" she asked Jade with a sharp, impatient tone.

"Mme. Truffaut, I have done the usual. I've managed a small household with the typical chores of cleaning, cooking, sewing, caring for the animals, and shopping for our needs."

"Do you think you could manage the task of receiving, and arranging deliveries for the opera house? I need an assistant who will oversee such matters."

Mme Truffaut studied the young woman before her. DuChant had been correct about her carriage and no nonsense presentation. The older woman's tactics hadn't intimidated her. It was likely that the girl would be able to handle the some times rough and crude deliverymen.

Jade watched the older woman carefully. She had had no idea as to what sort of work would be handed to her, and she didn't care. She had decided to take the job in the stable. Dealing with Rascon would be difficult, but she was accustomed to difficult people. The lure of the horses was strong enough to compensate for any problems she might encounter there. It was likely that Rascon would at least partially restrain his hostility, since he would know that she was there because DuChant had lost confidence in him.

That day Jade and Mme. Truffaut worked in the management offices, and studied the books, price lists, and suppliers.

Mme. Truffaut bent over a large accounts book that listed businesses, which had provided goods to the opera house the year before.

"It will be your job to contact these ten companies and arrange for deliveries," she said to Jade. "You can start with these five this week, and finish up with the rest by the end of the month." She had rapidly pointed out five companies that were located randomly on the ledger page. Jade nodded briefly, then turned to pick up another ledger that had been placed on a small table next to the desk.

"Mademoiselle, I need you to pay attention to these details!" Mme. Truffaut was greatly irritated that the girl had barely glanced at the page that she had pointed to. She looked sharply at the girl who had a dreamy look in her eyes. _DuChant must have been wrong when he said that she was bright. She's acting like a dolt!_

Jade turned to the older woman, and proceeded to recite the names and locations of the five businesses that she was to contact this week.

Mme. Truffaut looked startled, and then glanced at the open page of the ledger while Jade was reciting. She found the last two names and locations that the girl listed. _She memorized them without effort, _she thought with amazement.

The rest of the day passed quickly enough for Jade. After the ledger incident, Madame had softened a bit, even warmed up to her a little. It was all the same to Jade, whether the woman liked or disliked her. She would do what was required of her.

When the sun hung low in the sky, Jade left the office, and quickly climbed to the roof. She was trying to get there in time for the sunset. Taking two steps at a time, she held her skirt up above her calves, and sprang through the door at the top of the stairs. The air on the roof was remarkably cooler than below. Immediately she stopped, and blinked slowly as she stared at the sight ahead.

It was a rare sunset with colors that were astonishingly deep and vivid. As her skin soaked in the blood red light, she exclaimed at its intensity. Running to the parapet, she gazed at the city's vista, and then watched the tiny people below who were hurrying home to their meals and their loved ones.

After ten minutes, the sun dropped below the horizon, and the light began to fade. The lamps of the city were gradually being lit. With each passing minute it grew darker on the roof.

Leaning on the parapet, she finally waved farewell to the lights below. Then she walked slowly and dreamily across the roof as she explored its surface with her feet. When she reached the center, she turned and stood very still, as if she was listening to something. Slowly, she began to sway.

The melody in her head was rich and beautiful. It had been there most of the day. She had tried to ignore it while working, especially when Mme. Truffaut was explaining certain details. She couldn't afford to be distracted on her first day at work. But the work was done, and she was alone in this very large space. It was time to let her barriers down, and give in to the music.

With her arms stretched out at her sides, she began to twirl. She made large, generous circles, with her face tipped up to the sky. Her pace quickened and the circles narrowed, until she finally spun so quickly that she lost her balance, and fell to her knees. Sitting there on her heels, she waited for the dizziness to recede.

The music was louder now, clearer.

Steadying herself, she stood up with her eyes closed. Without moving her feet, she began to sway. Her arms opened wide and closed as her body undulated. At times she would reach down and touch the roof, and at other times her arms would spread wide as if she were embracing the sky. Her body obeyed the hidden rhythm in her mind as she danced out the song.

Then it was finished. She sighed deeply, and opened her eyes. The music was gone. She could now go below and do whatever needed to be done: eat, bathe, or sleep.

Jade turned, and walked to the door. Before she left, she took one last look at the massive statues that surrounded her. It would be interesting to come back here during the day when she could look at them more closely. She exited the roof, and quietly closed the door behind her.

The lights of Paris were now entirely lit. The city's glow moved past the horizon, nourished by an array of luminescent points that covered the ground.

He stepped out of the shadows that he had lingered in when his view of the sunset was interrupted. He had heard her leaping up the stairs like a wild doe, and had casually moved to the side of one of the monumental sculptures as she burst through the door. There he stood as he waited for her to leave. She looked different than she had in the stables. There was an excitement in her body, a tension that he hadn't seen before.

He watched her twirl across the roof. It looked like a game that a child plays with its body: her upturned face, the increased pace until dizziness overwhelms.

And then she began to dance, with an unusual, wavelike motion, like a young sapling twisting in the wind. Her arms became the branches that bent and dipped as they were pushed along by restless air. Then her hands reached out to the sky as if drawing it down. He found her ease of movement, its spontaneity and simple grace, appealing.

The performance was brief, but oddly soothing. When she finished, he felt as if he had spent an hour under a willow tree by a stream, with a warm breeze sweeping over his taut muscles. He hadn't been aware of the tension in his body until he felt a release during her performance.

He leaned on the parapet inches away from where she had stood. A breeze picked up the edge of his dark cape, and lifted it lightly, giving his still figure a touch of vibrancy. As he stared at the horizon and the multitude of lights that was Paris, his white mask caught the dim light.

Slowly, he smiled. _Amusements and distractions, _he thought dryly._ Perhaps this will be a promising first season at my opera house._

Returning to his home below, he retired for the night. For the first time in many months, he slept well, and only awoke twice instead of his usual half dozen awakenings.


	7. Chapter 7 Protege

**A/N: Hans Christian Andersen wrote the story of The Little Mermaid in 1836.**

**The character Jules Bernard, has been stolen outright from Susan Kay's novel Phantom. The child Reza is also a character from that book.**

**Once again, gracious readers, your thoughts and impressions are worth their weight in gold. If you would be so kind as to read and review…**

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**Chapter 7 Protégé**

They circled the room, moving en masse, the twenty little ballerinas, as they followed the two older girls who boldly led them. They bobbed along like so many leaves floating upon a mountain stream that cascades to the forest below.

The ballet mistress entered the room, and clapped her hands loudly. "All right now children. Line up for your plies. Quickly!"

Mme. DuBois moved among the children, and gathered them into a line.

"Watch your backs. Stay in position. Hold up your chins!"

She stood facing the cluster of students as she studied their moves. Watching as their young bodies balanced into that abnormal position, she noted which children had perfected the basic movement and which were still struggling.

She was doing her best not to feel discouraged with their performance. The children were raw and inexperienced, and many were quite young. None showed a hint of exceptional talent. She had hoped that at least one possessed the special qualities that hallmarked great potential. To work with a gifted child would have been exciting and would have made the rest of the routine work worthwhile.

A former ballerina, Manette DuBois hoped to make a name for herself by teaching at the Opera Populaire. She had been a good dancer, and had danced for two years before she had met and married her husband. This was her first teaching job.

"Children, it's time for lunch." The children broke from the line, and scattered across the room. They snatched up their street shoes, and gathered in small groups of friends. Although it was Wednesday, the older girls were already making plans for the weekend. The younger girls were gossiping about local happenings and tidbits of information they had heard from the older girls. A few of the girls would visit their families this weekend, but most would remain here.

As they moved down the wide hall, their clear voices preceded them. Jade heard them approach, and joined them as they passed the office.

"Good day Mme. DuBois. If you please, I would like to talk with you."

"Good day, Mademoiselle. Please, join us."

Manette DuBois gave Jade a lovely warm smile, and focused her beautiful brown eyes on her. She was curious about this silent young woman who she rarely saw except in the café. Manette noticed that she always took her meals alone, and never lingered to speak with the rest of the staff. At times there was a far off look in her eyes, as if she were unaware of the people around her. Manette enjoyed watching Jade because she had the lithe grace of a dancer. She was curious about whether the woman had had formal training in dance.

"Mme DuBois, I would like to take one of your pupils away from her routine tonight. May I take Gillian out to dinner, and bring her back to the dormitory at around nine?"

Manette considered the request. Gillian was an orphan who had been brought here by family members, and as far as she knew, was more or less a permanent resident of the opera house. She had spent her first week making inquiries about each of her charges' history, and was especially concerned for the children who either had no family or whose family had abandoned them. _It would be fortunate if the child had a kind adult in her life. It might help her feel less afraid of ghosts and other such nonsense, _she considered.

"Of course, Mademoiselle. Can you come for her after five this evening? Their supper is at six. You can bring her directly to the dormitories at around nine." She smiled warmly at Jade, and gave her an encouraging nod.

"Yes, Madame. I will meet you at the café. Thank you." Jade nodded, and quickly left the group before Mme. DuBois could engage her in further conversation.

During lunch, Jade visited some of the local merchants' shops. First, she went to a dressmaker to be fitted for several outfits. Next, she visited the place that she had seen earlier, that sold the riding clothes. Walking down the street, she held the parcels tightly, exhilarated by her good fortune. _If it were possible, I would toss aside this dress and pass my days in these leather breeches, _she thought with delight.She fervently wished she lived in another place or time where women had the same freedom as men and where everyone who desired to, without exception, could wear pants.

Her last stop was a bookstore that was several streets from the opera house. Stepping through the door, she heard the silvery sound of a bell. It was fairy-like and sent a happy chill along her arms. A white haired woman with spectacles sat behind the counter. She glanced up at Jade, and smiled briefly.

Jade turned around, taking in the shop's interior, and saw wall to wall books. Through the door into the room beyond, she could see more shelves with even more books. Her eyes widened, and she began to scan the ceiling high shelves that were crowded with hundreds of titles. _How wonderful,_ she thought, and she wished she had more time to linger there.

"Good day Madame. May I help you?" asked the white haired woman.

"Good day Madame. Do you have any children's books?"

The woman led Jade to the adjacent room, and pointed to several shelves.

"How old is the child in question?"

"I'd say six or seven years old," stated Jade as she bent down, and touched one of the books. "Do you have any books with fairy tales?" she asked, turning to the older woman.

The woman laughed merrily. "Yes Madame. Please be seated and I will bring them to you."

Jade sat at a table, and for the next fifteen minutes, poured through the books the shopkeeper set before her.

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At last it was five o'clock and Jade was finished with the office work. She gathered up her parcels from a corner, and walked quickly to her room. Unlocking her door, she placed the parcels on the bed, and then surveyed the changes that she had made to the room.

In a vase on the chest of drawers was a large bunch of daisies. Their bright, unblinking yellow eyes planted an intense cheerfulness into the room. One wall was covered with a golden tapestry that had deep red tassels, with flying birds and deer embroidered upon it. It was a striking embellishment, and gave a theatrical quality to the room. She had borrowed it from the props department. In front of the large mirror was a small blue and white rug on which were piled cushions. On the table were plates of bread, cheese and fruit, as well as a small pie that she had purchased that morning from a nearby pastry shop. Taking a brightly wrapped parcel from the pile, she placed it on the table as she admired its big yellow bow.

Before leaving the room, she lit the candles, and turned on the gaslight.

The dining area was humming with activity. The children were gathered around their table as they waited for their dinner. Gillian was seated next to another small girl, and the two were huddled together in excited conversation.

When Gillian saw Jade coming towards them, she jumped out of her chair, and flew across the room. Pouncing on her, she possessively grabbed the woman's hand. Then she looked up intensely into her friend's face with a broad smile. Jade gazed at the excited child, and restrained her own desire to grin.

Gillian talked the entire time that they walked to Jade's room, and related every scrap of gossip she'd heard since their last meeting. One of her friends would be leaving this weekend to spend time with her family, and would bring her a gift when she returned. One of the older ballerinas was in love with a delivery boy. Marie, her friend, had a terrible cold and wouldn't have to go to classes for several days…

Arriving at her room, Jade ushered the child in. They were greeted by the radiance of a dozen candles clustered next to the large, wall mirror. Gillian was enthralled by the room's lavish decorations. Running to the tapestry, she stroked its silky surface. Then she noticed the food, and rushed to the table. _Pie!_

They sat together, and shared a merry meal. The child did most of the talking as Jade listened serenely. She loved the girl's musical voice and the excitement that inhabited every aspect of her. She was a small ball of fire that blazed away the dimness of Jade's loneliness.

At the end of the meal, Jade handed Gillian the colorful package, and motioned for her to open it. Inside was a children's book of fairy tales. The child studied each picture as she rubbed her fingers across them, and sighed mightily when she found one that was particularly pleasing. They moved to the rug, where they sat on the piled up cushions. Jade held the child near to her as she opened the book.

"Shall I read you a story?" she asked Gillian.

"Yes, please!" Gillian cried enthusiastically.

"This one is called, The Little Mermaid."

She softly read about the little sea princess who fell hopelessly in love with a handsome prince. It was a sad story, because the maiden gave up everything she knew and held dear in order to gain his love. Although she was graceful on her new legs, it was very painful for her to use them. In the end, the mermaid didn't win the prince's love. But because of her love for him, she gained a soul.

As she read to the child, Jade stroked her hair. The little girl rested quietly in her arms, content. It was nearly nine o'clock when she closed the book. Gillian was still awake, and wanted more stories.

"Jade, why is your hair short?"

Jade smiled at that. Her dark hair hung a little below her shoulders. It was thick and glossy, and definitely different from that of other women.

"Well, my dear, I cut it because someone told me that they needed a woman's hair to make a wig, and that mine would be perfect. So, I let her take some of my hair." What she didn't say was that she had sold her hair for enough money to get to Paris.

Gillian's eyes widened.

"Marie says that hair is a girl's…" She paused, searching for the word. "Glory. It makes the boys like you."

Jade smiled. "Yes, darling. It does make some men happy to see a woman's beautiful hair. But, it's not really all that important. It will grow back soon enough. Besides, women have other gifts that are more important."

"What?" said the child who was listening intently.

"A kind heart and a good mind. That is what's important."

Gillian nodded sleepily, and then snuggled next to Jade as her eyes closed.

Jade picked up the child, and swept the hair from her eyes. Then she carried her to the dormitory where she undressed her, and put her to bed. After kissing Gillian's forehead, she stared for a moment at her corn silk hair, which gleamed from the hallway light.

Later that night, as she lay beneath her covers, Jade thought of the fairytale. It was a story that she had always loved. She wanted the child to hear it for the first time with a sense of hope. The lesson was that love, even when it was painful, was still extraordinary and sustaining.

She rolled over and faced the wall. There was a sweet melody in her mind that was the voice of a child laughing and singing. As she slept deeply, the lilting sounds led her to a place of peace.

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That evening, he returned to the opera house after spending several hours discussing his business affairs with Jules Bernard. When they had finished, he gave Jules directions on how to proceed with several upcoming projects. As he traveled along the darker streets of the city, he carried under his arm requests for architectural plans from prospective clients.

In the last year, his business had continued to flourish. His success was facilitated by Jules' impeccable honesty and capable business decisions. The projects they had completed since the opera house fire had been another exercise that had kept his mind occupied. The dramatic scope of his designs as well as their originality made his work highly desirable. He had often wondered how his ideas would have been received if his clients had known that they had been produced by the infamous "Opera Ghost."

He had not needed the "wage" that he had formerly demanded from the managers of the Opera Populaire. It had been merely another one of the devices that he had used to control them.

In his hands were parcels of new clothing that he had specified that Jules order. Over the last few months, there had been some changes in men's fashion that were worth adding to his current wardrobe.

Laying his goods down, he took the passage that led to the management's offices. In DuChant's office, he rifled through letters and account books. He quickly took in the activities of the preceding two weeks, and determined the current state of the opera house's affairs. Auditions were scheduled to begin next week for the cast. Some of those to be auditioned possessed some artistic ability, whereas others would be a disaster for the Opera Populaire's reputation if they were hired. He removed the letters that were to be sent to objectionable individuals. He also pocketed preliminary letters to three potential patrons that had no business being involved with the opera. If rerouting paperwork failed, he had other tricks up his sleeve that he would use.

On his way back to the lower floors, he suddenly had an impulse to check on the young woman who he had recently seen on the roof. Her performance had had an uncanny effect on his sleeping habits in the last couple of nights. He hadn't slept this well in over a year.

Approaching her room, he saw the bright light shining through the mirror. She was sitting at a table eating her dinner, and talking with one of the opera children. He had seen the child before. She was memorable because of her nearly white hair.

He stood by the mirror, and listened to their conversation. The child was prattling on about everything, probably thankful to have an adult listening to her. The woman seemed taken with the child. Her eyes did not leave the little girl's face, even when the chatter became incoherent.

They moved close to the mirror, and the woman read a story. He leaned forward as he listened. It was a lovely, if somewhat sad tale of unrequited love. She appeared to be reading it with deep feelings as she gently held the child to her. Frequently, she would touch the little girl tenderly, as if she were a precious gift.

He had also wondered about the length of the woman's hair. That plus the breeches had caused him to mistake her for a boy when he saw her ride.

_So, she sold her hair to a wig maker, not too long ago. And then she came here. _Women did not sell their hair unless they were impoverished. Whatever she had gotten for it, it hadn't safeguarded her from the desperate state that he had first seen her in.

When she left with the child, he turned towards his home.

Striding down the passages towards the lake, he thought of the woman and the girl. Over the years, he had seen similar scenes of parents interacting with a beloved son or daughter. It was one of the few redeeming qualities that he found in people, their ability to make sacrifices for the love of a child. He had experienced it himself with his tenderness and concern for the small, crippled Persian boy, Reza.

He guided the boat across the lake, and arrived at his door. Carrying the parcels into his home, he tossed his cloak onto a chair, and set the parcels on the divan. After replenishing some of the candles that had burned out, he laid the requests for architectural plans on a large table that contained recent sketches. Pulling out a clean pad of paper, he sat down and began to work. Quickly, he sketched ideas that had come to him while he had spoken with Jules. Immersed in the task, he lost track of time.

After hours had passed, he absentmindedly picked up a piece of soft charcoal, and moved to a smaller pad, as he continued to sketch. He worked on it dreamily, unaware of what hidden thought was guiding him and inspiring his effort. By then he was quite tired and only vaguely aware of what he was doing. After a few minutes, he abandoned his work, and stretched out on his bed.

Awakening in the late morning, he casually walked to the kitchen, and prepared his breakfast. It was a simple fare of bread and cheese. Carrying his plate to the table where he had worked the night before, he stared down at the piles of sketches scattered across the surface. It had been a good night's work. His mind had been clear, and the ideas had flown out of his head at a breakneck speed.

As he ate his meal, he sorted through the papers in front of him, reviewing what he had done. On top of one of the piles, he found an unfamiliar sketch. _I must have done this just before I went to bed, _he thought absently. It was a picture of a Madonna with her child. The sheen he had drawn on the dark hair of the woman gave it the semblance of a halo. The child's pale hair was a nimbus that framed her angelic face.

It was a picture of Jade and the child. He smiled, and was a little bemused at his unconscious choice of subjects.

Rising from his seat, he carried the sketch to a wall that displayed other personal sketches that he had made. He placed it next to an older drawing of Reza. His eyes softened as he regarded the two drawings together.

Moving back to the table, he once again lost himself in his work.


	8. Chapter 8 Dance

**Chapter 8 Dance**

In the early morning, Jade left the opera café and walked to the stable with an easy stride. The sounds that drifted into that chilly, narrow street had a distant quality, as if they too were barely awake. There was a sense of expectation in the air—a purpose to be fulfilled.

Entering the stable, she slipped from stall to stall, and looked in on her new charges that were waiting for breakfast. Each horse greeted her with intense interest, followed by disappointment when she came without food. She was searching for a horse that would enjoy some exercise. After checking several stalls, she chose a thin, roan mare whose eyes remained on hers even when the customary feed didn't appear.

After putting on the bridle, she checked the mare's hooves for stones. Her hooves had been recently cleaned, and neatly trimmed. She'd noticed the same with the rest of the horses. _They're being well cared for. Rascon is taking the time to do basic maintenance._

While grooming the mare, she studied her reactions, and assessed the horse's temperament. Of course, without knowing her habits, there was no way to know exactly how the mare would behave once she was out of her stall. She might startle easily or suddenly get it into her mind to take off with her new rider.

The crisp morning air was exhilarating and both horse and rider responded. Once they were on the bridle path, the roan settled into a fast trot and Jade let her set the pace. Soon they were next to the large cedars and approaching the first turn. When they were past the trees, Jade could see a lone rider ahead about a quarter of a mile away. She guessed it was a man because of his size. He was riding a large, dark horse. As they drew near, she noticed that the horse was straining at the bit while the man held him back with a heavy hand. The horse repeatedly jerked his head and fought the rider. Suddenly, the man pulled the horse back into an abrupt stop, and then spun the quivering animal around. Now they were facing Jade, and she recognized him. It was Rascon.

His jaw was clenched and his brow furrowed. When he saw her, he scowled darkly, and scrupulously avoided her eyes as he passed by.

She ignored him as well, and finished the exercise session with the mare.

Later, she stood in the mare's stall and stroked her while the horses around them whinnied loudly as Rascon tossed hay to them.

Over the next two hours Jade groomed horses, and checked their health and temperament while Rascon moved about the stable and worked on various projects. She stayed in the stalls and avoided him. When he finally left the stable, she looked in on the dark horse that he had ridden that morning.

The moment she stepped into his stall, the stallion walked up to her, and vigorously pushed his head into her chest. Then he danced around a bit as if anticipating something. Judging him to be somewhat high strung, she spoke with a calm voice, and lightly touched him. After ten minutes, he settled down, and responded to her. If Rascon hadn't exercised him that morning, she would have taken him out. She wanted to know how he would behave under a gentler hand.

When it was time for dinner, she didn't bother to change her clothes. As she entered the café, her breeches and knee length tunic caused a few eyes to roll, but she didn't care. After a quick meal, she left for her room.

While soaking in the warm tub of water which had been delivered to her room, she tried to ignore the restlessness that clung to her mind. The tension was building again.

The music was back in her head. It had started as a faint melody when she awoke that morning, and had gained momentum as the day advanced. At that moment, it was a rhythmic throbbing in her chest and stomach. It was distracting, calling to her, stealing her attention.

Tomorrow, Pierre would be in Paris. She had planned to meet him briefly in the market at the noon hour, and invite him to dinner. If the music dominated her, it would be difficult to hear his voice. She needed to take care of it.

She decided to go for a walk.

Roaming the streets, she finally arrived at the river. It was a few nights before the full moon, and bright light shone on the water below. _How beautiful_, she thought as a moment of stillness filled her. A few couples were strolling along the right bank and talking with each other quietly as they took in the view. _Lovers_, she mused. As Jade watched them, she admired the comfort they took from each other's presence.

Then she set about her task. Walking briskly along the bank, she tried to free herself from the music. Some times, that's all that was needed to make it stop.

An hour, she sat on a bench, and stared at the river with frustration. _Not tonight. _ It would take something more.

Walking back to the opera house, she considered the many empty rooms of that large building. Surely, one of them would guarantee privacy. She needed privacy.

After a determined search, she finally ended up in the auditorium. _The stage! Why not here?_ It was quiet enough. All she needed was a little light. But first_…_

Jade returned to her room, and got her riding breeches, several spare candles and candleholders that she had collected for such an occasion. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was nine thirty. She would wait until ten, and pray that it was late enough for people to have retired for the night.

When she arrived at the auditorium, she soaked in the darkness and silence. She lit a candle, walked the length of the great stage, and she set four candles at its edge. Stepping to the center of the stage, she gauged the distance it would take to travel to the end. She didn't want to get carried away and land in the orchestra pit. Then she removed her dress and put on the breeches. Fortunately, after the day's work, they had stretched enough for her to use them tonight. Donning her tunic, she was ready.

Silently, she stepped out of the darkness, and prepared to dance.

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At eight o'clock that night, he finished his work. He had spent the entire day bent over paper, vigorously drawing architectural plans. There had been a brief break for lunch, and then he had begun again

Now it was time to relax.

Drawing a bath in the sunken, marble tub, he slowly slipped into it. Stretching out his cramped limbs, he absorbed the delicious heat. It was never really warm down here in his underground cave. He could heat his house if he chose to, but he often forgot about it, and simply lived with the natural environment. After a day such as today when he worked long hours over his desk, he was more susceptible to the cold. A warm bath was therapeutic as well as a pleasure.

Lounging, he lazily rubbed the soap along his body. He was thinking about his music and how long it had been since he had seriously composed. He really hadn't done anything worthwhile since…

With that thought, his muscles suddenly tensed. Sighing, he exited the bath, and abandoned both its soothing warmth and the thoughts it allowed in.

He dressed in front of a mirror, and examined the fit of his new suit. As usual, he looked flawless. Not that anyone but himself would notice it. However, it was important that his dress be impeccable. It wouldn't do to fall into slovenly habits.

It was nearly the end of summer, and it would be pleasant to take a leisurely stroll. In a week it would be autumn, and the nights would soon grow colder.

Once in the opera house, he traveled past the dressing rooms and moved toward the grand foyer. The lure of the night air was upon him, and for once he was eager to feel its light touch on his face. In the last few months, his spirits had been steadily rising as his interest in the simple things of life returned.

Arriving at the foyer, he headed towards the great doors that lead to the street. Then, something called to him from the auditorium. Not a sound, just an impulse: a strange, little tension in his mind. Turning back, he crept up the stairs, and entered the dark room.

It was very still, without a sign of life. For a moment he wondered what had called to him. Then he sat in one of the velvet chairs and waited.

It was only a minute before she entered. Lighting a single candle, she cautiously walked onto the stage as her eyes searched the darkness. Walking along its outer edge, she placed several candles there. Then she paced the stage as if measuring its distance. Finally, she stepped back into the shadows where she changed her clothes.

She emerged wearing leather breeches and a tunic that fell to her knees. Her feet were bare.

When she closed her eyes, he leaned forward slightly with expectation.

This time, there was no preliminary twirling and falling. Instead, when her eyes opened she began her dance with a series of leaps. It started with a complete spinning turn, then a leap, and then another turn followed by a leap. In that way, she moved across the stage. Her leaps grew stronger and higher as she gracefully arched her back with arms curved over her head, and her chin tipped to the ceiling. The strength of her legs was staggering. When she was suspended in the air, she looked more like a deer than a human. And yet in the midst of that athletic prowess, there was an absolute grace, a pronounced rhythm. He followed it by tapping his finger on the seat in front of him, and realized that she wasn't following a simple, single beat. The music in her mind was complex.

Then the dance changed. The hard driving rhythm softened, and slowed. She continued to move across the stage but her steps were light and playful with her arms waving smoothly and sensually to the rhythm. Tossing her head, she looked seductively over her shoulder as she smiled knowingly at an unseen audience. It was the same type of dance that he had seen many times before as a child in the gypsy camps when the women entertained their men. But, she had perfected it. Eliminated the distractions and boiled it down to a pure, simple expression. Watching her, he could see and smell the campfires again, and the swarthy men looking with admiration and lust at their women.

One last time, the rhythm again changed, and slowed to an almost imperceptible beat. She knelt on the floor, moving shoulders, arms, and body, as she wrapped herself with the airs around her. It was soothing, and light. So light, as she stroked the air with fingertips, beckoning it to join her in living form. She called to the spirits, asking them to step out from the shadows, and show their lonely faces to this queen of dance.

Her dancing finished, she bowed her head, and after a minute rose. Gathering up her pile of clothes, she moved to the edge of the stage, and extinguished each candle. Then she left him in the darkness.

He sat there in silence, thinking about what he had just seen and experienced.

Once again, he was physically affected by her performance. It's as if her act of dancing captured and revealed feelings that he had forgotten long ago, but which had remained resting in his body. When she did her high leaps and spins, he remembered his trips through the forest where he had startled deer. He relived the thrill he of them bounding away: unbridled power, consummate grace. During that part, his heart had beaten faster, and he had felt light headed. As she danced the second movement, he saw the beautiful, dark eyes of the gypsies—intense and alluring, possessing those who they sought to conquer. As an adolescent, how many times had he felt a hot sensation in his groin as he watched their playful, sexual games? He felt it again tonight.

The last movement was cleansing and evocative, as if she were appeasing the spirits of the past and the present. Peace remained in its aftermath.

He got up and walked to the foyer. Pushing through the doors, he traveled towards the river. A thought had entered his mind, and it had begun to burn.

Quickly he made his way to the river. There, he stood at its edge and gazed at the moonlight glimmering upon the water. The playful light shimmered, and broke as it rode the ripples. It seemed to open up possibilities in his mind.

Sitting on a bench near the river, he spent the hour watching the moon cross the sky. His hood covered his mask and hid him from the occasional pedestrian, while he remained there, deep in thought.

There was no delicate diva to sing his music. However, there was this amazing talent resting in his opera house, under the ignorant noses of the residents.

_What would it be like if she were to dance to my music?_

_It's really too good to resist_, he mused. After all, didn't fate call him to the auditorium to witness the spectacle of her hidden performance? Wasn't there a piece of destiny to all this?

She danced alone, seeking privacy for her performances. Would she dance for an audience of one if the right music were played?

Leaving the river, he quickly returned to the opera house. A melody was forming in his mind. It was the sort of music that one might sing to a wild doe in order to tame her. _Or would a tune to charm a young lioness be a better choice?_

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Jade went to her room, and removed the breeches. After laying them carefully across the chair, she slipped into her bedclothes. Brushing her hair out before the great mirror, she paused, and looked at herself long and hard.

_How long will this go on?_

For as long as she could remember, the music had been in her mind. A melody would play for days or weeks until it was replaced with another. _An eternal concert._ When she was tiny, it had been wondrous. She had assumed that everyone else heard it as well.

Even now, the melody was often peaceful and joyful. It was a familiar yet enchanting accompaniment that like a dear friend never left her side.

The day she told her mother about the music was one of the worst days of her life. The fear and sadness in her mother's eyes had been horrible. After that, things had changed between them. An emotional gap grew between Jade and the woman that she adored as fear of Jade's madness entrenched itself in the woman's mind. And that was only the beginning of the pain.

At some time in her youth, she had learned that if she danced to the tune long enough, she could silence it, at least for a while. It became necessary to do so when the melody was raucous or too intense. As she grew older, her dancing became more subtle and complicated, and placed more physical demands upon her.

She never resented the act. On the contrary, there was an indescribable thrill to letting the music take possession of her body, _of her whole self_, while it was released.

It was the hiding that troubled her, the need for secrecy and the constant risk of discovery with its consequences. For instance, tonight in the auditorium, what if she had been seen? She could be easily fired for her eccentricity and the mistrust it generated. Then there was the issue of madness. She had been threatened with that before. It was one of the reasons she had chosen to come to Paris, to avoid provincial superstitions and rigid beliefs, and their harsh punishments.

And lastly, there was the issue of control. If a person accidentally discovered her dancing, and was not disturbed by her compulsive and eccentric behavior, it was because he wished to profit from it. She had met a few who had tried to take advantage of her, and own her. It had made her feel hopelessly freakish. It had violated her independence and self-control to be regarded as a type of performance monkey, a servant to another's will.

She laid the brush aside and turned out the light. Crawling under the covers, she stared into the darkness.

If only there was a place where I could go to be alone at such times. If I had a safe place to dance out my music, I could then live a normal life.

Jade rolled onto her side, and felt sleep's gentle relief approach her tired mind. Tomorrow she would see Pierre. In some ways, he was like Jean-Luc. Gentle Jean-Luc, who never judged, who only loved…


	9. Chapter 9 Friendship

**Chapter 9 Friendship**

That Friday, vendors and buyers crowded the large, open-air courtyard where goods and money were rapidly changing hands. Big hipped women who balanced heavy baskets on their sides were jostled by rough clothed men pushing heavy hand carts through the throng. It was early morning and the busiest time of the day.

Pierre was headed towards his market stall when he spied Madame F. lingering next to his produce baskets. Hoisted on his shoulder was the wheel of cheese he'd promised her, the one he'd asked one of his merchant friends to set aside.

When she saw him, Madame F. smiled brightly. He gave her a broad smile as he placed the cheese in her cart.

"Pierre, you are a godsend," she said with a contented sigh.

"It's nothing."

"Well, I am very grateful. You found the last one for me. It's a very good cheese, and I would have sorely missed it. I left you a meat pie inside your stall as a token of my gratitude. I hope you enjoy it."

He pressed her hand warmly. "It is very kind of you to think of me."

Blushing deeply, the slender, violet-eyed woman looked up at him shyly, and then bid him farewell.

Later as the noon hour approached, Pierre stood in his stall, and gazed across the courtyard. He enjoyed these moments when he could pay attention to what was happening around him. There was a visual rhythm in the market. It was embedded in the movements of shoppers and merchants as goods passed from vendor to buyer—the hurried and casual exchanges punctuated by gestures of hands and bodies. These were accompanied by voices talking in unison or clashing with each other. He relished the rhythms and harmonies that people created as they went about their daily lives.

Pierre glanced at the large pie left by Madame F, and smiled. He was grateful for her appreciation. She owned a pastry shop and was a very good cook.

He had a number of friends in Paris who were women. In fact, he was the favorite of many of the local widows who had had their eye on him for years. His amiable nature, easy charm, and genuine appreciation of female companionship had repeatedly won him their esteem. Also, his good looks put him in their pantheon of eligible bachelors. Since many of the women knew each other personally, he was a popular topic among them. The question that was often discussed was: why had he never married and what sort of woman would be ideal for him? It was a fierce topic as everyone had an opinion as to what he precisely needed.

That day, there was only one woman on Pierre's mind. He was hoping he would be seeing Jade this evening. Would she be willing to make time for her new friend?

During the past week, he'd often wondered how she was faring. Had she adjusted to her new home and job? Was she happy?

Last Sunday, after mass, he'd dined with friends. During their conversation, he'd taken out the leather pouch that held Jade's gift, and had casually studied the silver charm. Marie had asked if she could look at it.

Balancing it on her palm she exclaimed, "How lovely Pierre! Where did you get this?"

"It's a gift from a friend of mine in Paris," he said lightly.

Joseph, who was Marie's husband, stared at the tiny silver horse. "Your friend has good taste. It looks old. I bet it's worth more than a few francs."

_Yes,_ Pierre thought, _it probably is._ He looked at it again, and a realization came to him. Jade had been in a terrible state when he met her, and she still possessed this asset. Instead of selling it for food that was badly needed, she had saved it, and then later given it to him as a token of her gratitude.

He held the charm a little longer before returning it to its pouch. It felt heavier, and seemed shinier than before.

As Pierre looked out across the market place, he absently touched his shirt pocket where the charm rested. Glancing at the ground, he noticed a bruised piece of fruit. Bending over to pick it up, he straightened and found Jade standing quietly in front of him, looking into his eyes.

"Good day, Jade", he said and gave her a small bow. A twinkle entered his eyes. He was recalling that this was the way they had first met a week ago. _Am I to have a fairy woman for a friend who appears out of thin air whenever I want her near? _he joked to himself.

Jade steadily gazed at him for a few moments longer before she spoke. _They haven't changed, _she thought. _His eyes are the same as when I saw him last._

Something about that generated trust. She felt a change, a softening inside, as the hard distance that she'd laid down between herself and others began to buckle.

"Good day Pierre. You are looking well."

"And you, Jade, look very well indeed. How are things going for you at the Opéra Populaire?"

"I will be glad to discuss that with you this evening. Would you care to join me for dinner?" she asked casually. _I don't remember the last time I asked a man to dine with me. Oh yes... Jean-Luc._

"I would enjoy that. May I suggest a pleasant place that is perfect for a tête-à-tête? It's an easy walk from here. We could meet at the opera house, and go from there. Or we could dine at another place if you have something else in mind."

Pierre saw her eyes soften, and felt a warm rush of excitement as the barrier between them began to yield. She was beginning to trust him.

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That evening, Jade enjoyed a much-needed soak after working with the horses. Stepping out of the bath, she sat naked before the huge wall mirror, and combed out her wet mass of hair. She had meant what she'd said to the child about women's excessive regard for their hair. Women were too concerned about looking physically appealing. She had never cared for that all consuming interest of her gender.

Leaving the room, she locked the door, and turned towards the management offices where she was to meet Pierre. As Jade walked down the hall, a door suddenly opened, and Pierre stepped out in front of her. Surprised, she halted and stared at him.

He was wearing a white shirt and form fitting, dark pants. A dark cloak was tossed over his arm. His curly brown, shoulder length hair was tied back with a ribbon, and gave his six foot plus frame a dashing air.

She hadn't really noticed his good looks until now.

With an easy, disarming smile, he glanced at his room and then towards hers.

"DuChant put me here at my request. I liked the size of your room and its large mirror. I hope you don't mind my proximity. If you do, please tell me, and I'll make other arrangements." He looked concerned as he spoke the last words. His smile was gone, and he gazed at her expectantly.

Shrugging, she looked away. If there were more to his story, she'd find out soon enough. At the moment, it wasn't important enough for further scrutiny.

"No Pierre. I don't mind."

The sun had already set by the time they left the opera house. The street traffic was still thick, and the sidewalks crowded with workers who were returning to their homes. In addition there were others strolling along the pavement such as groups of young men who were out for dinner and entertainment.

Both Pierre and Jade were hungry so they walked moved towards the restaurant. Neither of them spoke.

As they walked, Pierre looked down at her dark hair and lithe form. _How well she moves! _He was thinking about the fact that he'd lied to her about the room, and was feeling somewhat guilty. But, until he knew that everything was fine at the opera house, he was planning on staying close to his little friend. Once he knew for certain that his concerns were unfounded, he would gladly move to other quarters.

Jade was thinking of how much she owed this man. DuChant had given her an advance on her wages this week, which had allowed her to buy clothes and extras. The money had enabled her to entertain Gillian, and provided for her supper tonight. She suspected that Pierre was behind it. And if not, he was definitely one of the reasons DuChant was generous to her.

She wondered about the silver charm she'd given him. Did he still have it on him? It was very important to her. The charm was one of the last things that her mother had given her before she had died. It had been given with the intent to mend a bridge between them, a bridge that had been in need of repair for many years. She had often wondered what would have happened if her mother had lived a few more years. Would they have become close again?

When Pierre pointed to the café that was just ahead, Jade suddenly stopped. Signaling for him to follow, she stepped into a side alley. Curious, he walked behind her until she turned and faced him. Her eyes were bright, and firmly held his as she stood perfectly still. Looking down at her, he felt as if time was drifting away from them, leaving them suspended in that frozen moment.

"Pierre, fortunate events have happened to me this week, and I believe you are responsible for some of them. I feel that you have been helping me, even when you weren't here. DuChant has given me a fine job, and an advance on my salary. Things have been going very well since I came to the opera house. I am deeply grateful for your generous assistance."

_There. It's done, _she thought, as she let out the breath that she'd partially held during her speech. She had wanted to tell him her feelings in a private place. Suddenly, there had been a compelling urge to do so.

Pierre nodded gently. Once again he could see that this was new territory for her, this act of thanking. As he watched her struggle, he thought,_ She pays her debts no matter what the cost._

Slowly, he reached out his hand, and offered it to her. She looked down at it with hesitation, and then finally met it with her own. His fingers closed around hers as he smiled warmly, admiring her courage.

Jade looked up into his eyes, and allowed her hand to stay within his a few moments longer before she slowly took it back.

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Later that night, Pierre was lying on his bed, and watching the candlelight flicker in the large wall mirror. It was huge, out of proportion to his needs. Like the rest of this place, it was much larger than anything he would ever need. Whoever had designed and built the opera house had had grander ideas than he. The architect would have been an ambitious man who was passionate about his vision.

Over the years, Jacques had asked him several times to come to Paris to live. It would have been a mistake. What he appreciated were the simple things in life such as his friends, his orchards, and his work.

He looked at his image in the mirror: a tall man lying on his side, his features softened by the candlelight. He rolled onto his back and stared at the high ceiling, and thought of Jade.

She was fascinating, a mystery—an adventurer moving through an uncharted life.

When she had set aside her fierce independence and allowed him to help her, it had been satisfying in a way that he couldn't fully describe. As he dealt with her, he was strongly aware that she was different from anyone he'd known before. There was wildness about her. If you drew near to her, it was because she allowed it. And if you touched her, well… how often did one get the chance to touch a wild hawk? To be able to do so was a privilege.

He sensed that she had feelings bottled up inside of her that she struggled with.

Pierre was comfortable with feelings. That was his gift: knowing and understanding the people around him. He felt that she needed a friend, and someone whom she could learn to trust.

Getting up, he blew out the candle.

_She has beautiful eyes._ He imagined that if he stared into them long enough he would see an undiscovered part of himself.

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**A/N: Thank you to all the readers who have stayed with my story. And welcome to the new reviewers who've recently checked in.**


	10. Chapter 10 Release

**A/N: I'm modeling this story after the classic Gothic romance novels of the nineteenth century. In those novels, character and relationship development were essential for a good story. In the 2004 POTO movie that this story is loosely a sequel to, the Phantom didn't come face to face with Christine until many years after he first started singing to her. No, I won't wait that long to bring them together. But, this isn't fast food fiction and I'm allowing some slow simmering to take place in this story. I hope you'll enjoy the results.**

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**Chapter 10 Release**

He entered his home, and stepped into the warm glow of the candlelit room, his mind spinning with the melody. The song was spreading out, taking root. Like a tree that grows beyond the confining walls of a conservatory, it was crashing against his mind and demanding its freedom.

Pulling out music paper, ink and pens, he laid them on the table.

Impatiently tossing his cloak aside, he partially undressed and freed himself from the restraints of his garb. Then he strode to the organ, and gazed at it with impetuous longing.

He touched its gleaming surface, and stroked the cool, smooth wood. It was of the highest quality. He had spared no expense when he had created the instrument.

The massive organ had sat idle these many months as it waited for his return. Hints of past melodies lingered in its crevices.

Sitting down, he lightly stroked the keys. When he firmly pressed them, a full-bodied groan emerged, and reverberated throughout the room. The rising tone caused his skin to tingle and his body to hum.

As he bent over the keys, his white shirt fell open, and the cool air brushed his bare chest. His body remembered the endless sessions here. His muscles instinctively coiled in preparation for the upcoming marathon.

He played softly as he tracked the music that was winding through his mind. Leaning into the music, he closed his eyes. His face softened as the old bliss returned.

Tipping his face upwards, and breathing in deeply, he let loose the music that had been held in for the last year.

For the next three days and nights he played.

First, he played a melody that sang the delight that he felt as he watched her dance in the empty auditorium. A liquid tribute to her grace emerged.

Then other melodies arose. Some were seductive and sensuous. They pressed close to him, and trailed their fingers across his chest. Others were twisted strains of thwarted passion and longing that would never be fulfilled. The music that his heart had been too numb to feel poured from him.

It charged his soul, and drove him to play hour after hour. He vacillated between euphoria and tears, and played until his feelings were spent.

Eventually his fingers cramped and it was painful to touch the keys. In spite of it he played on until physical need overcame him. Retiring to his couch, he slept fitfully, without peace. After several hours, he rose again, and returned to the music.

By Sunday night, he was finished.

Opening the door to his home, he staggered to the water. He was beaten down by exhaustion. At the edge of the lake, he tripped and fell to his knees, his numb hands hitting the rocks.

He sat on his heels, with bloodied fingers, and dumbly stared into the darkness. Flashes of ghostly lights flickered before him: effervescent colors laid down by his lantern on the hundreds of crossings he had made across the lake.

Realizing that he was hallucinating, he dragged himself back into his home. On his worktable were mounds of music sheets, which he swept into a pile. He wondered how they had gotten there, and then realized that he had created them. They were the tangible result of his outpouring.

He tried to rest but his mind was strained beyond sleep. Like that of a small child that goes far past its bedtime, his mind was spinning like a top. The melodies were crashing into each other and had set up a distracting, vibrating thrill in his body. His ears were still ringing from the volume of the organ.

Abandoning his bed, he stepped outside where the fresh air could soothe his raw nerves. Arriving at the gate that separated the cave from the outside world, he found a cache of food that Jules had left for him several days ago. Much of the food was spoiled from the heat of the previous days. There were a few nonperishable items that he fished out which included a bottle of wine. He left the cave and made his way around the perimeter of the opera house.

The moon was small and full in the cloudless sky. His shadow ran ahead of him as he stretched his long legs. Walking along the bridle path, he worked the stiffness from his limbs, and came to the old cedars that lined the path. There he found a large stump that he rested against. The moonlight struck the lawn in front of him, and lit it up like a great stage. The pungent and musty smell of the disintegrating foliage surrounded him, and nipped at his nostrils.

After drinking most of the wine, he heard voices. A man and a woman were walking together hand and hand down the bridle path. They veered off the path, and walked onto the lawn in front of him. Placing a blanket down, they laid down on it and continued to talk. The woman's soft, light voice blended with the man's baritone. He could barely make out what they were saying. It was about their future together and their dreams, the typical talk of lovers. Eventually, their voices faded, and were replaced with the soft rustling sound of the woman's dress being lifted. Then there were soft sighs punctuated with occasional moans. The man's hands were busily working over the woman's shifting form.

Finishing his wine, he decided to leave. He didn't care to spy on the two that were in front of him locked in an impassioned embrace. It left an empty feeling in him when he chanced upon lovers, and stayed more than a few minutes in their proximity. He shrugged his shoulders, and thought that it was fortunate that they had come at that moment. He was beginning to feel very relaxed, and would soon be able to sleep. Their presence shook him out of his reverie. It was time for him to return to his home.

Then he heard the pounding hooves of a horse that was traveling fast down the bridle path in his direction. He stepped back into the shadows, and watched as the man hastily stood up and looked in the direction of the oncoming horse. The woman was fumbling with her dress, and replacing one of her undergarments.

A large dark horse passed them by moving fast. Perched on his back was Jade, who was bent over his shoulders and hugging his neck. They rode by in a blur.

The horse and rider turned past the cedars and continued on up the road.

He cut through the trees, and emerged on the other side so that he had a view of them as they continued up the road.

As he watched, the horse slowed to a trot, turned, and headed back towards him. Picking up speed, the dark figure raced back in his direction. The rider sat perfectly still, and was a mere shadow on the animal's back.

Glancing in front of him, he noted that the man and the woman were already half way across the lawn, as they hurried away.

The dark horse loped towards him, and was covered with a frothy sweat. The rider was now sitting erect. Responding to an unseen signal, the horse broke its stride, and moved into a trot. Then it left the road directly in front of him and stepped onto the lawn.

The stallion pulled his feet up high in a dancing trot as the woman guided him in tight, figure eight circles. The moonlight poured down upon them like a giant stage light from the sky, highlighting the proud arch of the horse's neck. A light breeze flicked the frothy sweat from his body as his rider sat quietly on his great form.

Their movement was fluid, a ballet. As the beautiful image floated before him, he shut his eyes, and sealed it into his memory.

Then the horse and rider moved away from him, and headed towards the stable.

He followed them. In his altered, exhausted state, he let them pull him along like the flotsam that trails the wake of a great ship on the ocean. The restlessness had dropped away, and he was sliding into deep relaxation.

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Horse and rider entered the stable shadowed by the man. It was quiet as the equine residents dozed. She removed the bridle, and rubbed the dark stallion down, quietly talking to him and giving him an occasional pat. She filled his water bucket, and allowed him to drink deeply as she stood at the corner of his stall. The stallion's great shoulders sloped powerfully as he bent down, and filled his belly. He was completely at ease. Leaving the stall, she headed back to the opera house through the passages off the stable.

She walked in the darkness effortlessly, as she had memorized the number of steps from one passage to the next. As she moved down the final passage that would take her back into the main part of the building, she heard a faint sound, a scraping of a foot against the floor. She turned, and looked into the darkness as she leaned forward and waited for something to emerge. Her fists were clenched with expectation, and her shoulders tensed as she prepared to strike out and defend herself. But nothing came. Yet she was certain that there was something there in the distance, something that was following her.

She spun around and in a flash reached the door to the opera house. Passing through it, she closed it firmly. _"Come through now, and we shall see what will happen"_, she whispered to what lay behind the door. Her hand was in her pocket clasping a knife that she carried. She waited, but nothing answered her challenge.

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He had watched her in the stable working with the stallion. His eyes were half closed, as he followed her stroking motions. It was as if she were touching _his_ shoulders and attending to his needs. When she left, he stayed behind her, and noted how well she moved in the pitch black of the halls. He was fast losing his energy. He stumbled as he approached the passage that forked away from hers and led to his home. Her footsteps stopped, and he heard a light gasp of recognition. Suddenly, he had a powerful impulse to pursue her, to creep up on her in that dark space and touch her. The blood rushed to his temples, and the urge of the hunt was so fresh that he could taste it. What would she do if she suddenly felt his warm gloves grasping her waist? Would she scream? Or would she strike out and defend herself?

He shook away the impulse that came from the dream like state that he had worked himself into.

As he headed home, it seemed to take forever to get there. When he entered his bedroom, he kicked off his boots, and laid upon his sheets, finally calm enough to sleep. He began to drift off, and thought of the dark horse and the massaging motion of her hands across its shoulders. He distantly wondered what it would be like if her hands were stroking his back as they caressed him into sleep. He imagined her calm deliberate touch, the smooth repetitive motion, and it carried him into unconsciousness.

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She entered her room, and quickly locked the door behind her. Her heart was still beating rapidly, and she was sweating. Pacing the length of the room for a few minutes, she tried to calm down. Then she pulled the chamber pot out from under the bed, and emptied the contents of her stomach into it.

Seated in the chair, Jade stared emptily at the wall mirror. _Just a physical reaction, nothing more, _she told herself. She'd been through worse on the streets of Paris in those nightmarish first ten days in the city. Also, she'd been attacked in the provinces, and had defended herself. Still, it was unnerving when the potential threat remained hidden in the dark. It magnified the danger.

She got up and checked the door's lock to gauge its strength. It looked strong enough. And there were residents along the hall that would hear her if she cried out.

Undressing slowly, she washed the sweat from her face and arms. The cool cloth was soothing.

She looked into the mirror again and this time cursed at it, as if whoever had followed her was standing behind it. _Damn him!_ It was most certainly a man who had probably imagined that he was about to capture a sexual thrill in the passageway. _He'll regret it if he catches me,_ she thought grimly.

Lying in bed, she planned how she would manage her night rides in the future. There would be no more walking back through the stable passages in the dark. Riding the big stallion tonight had been exhilarating, and she planned to continue to do so in spite of a lurking presence. She'd just have to be more careful.

The legend of the Opera Ghost that had terrified Gillian, came to mind. Perhaps there was something to it after all. The opera house was a huge building, and it provided ample opportunity for a human predator to hunt the unsuspecting.

It was time she learned more about this place.


	11. Chapter 11 Gifts

**A/N: dear readers, sorry it took so long to get this rewrite to you. This chapter needed more editing than I had expected.**

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** Chapter 11 Gifts**

Opera singers from all of Europe were gathering for auditions at the Opera Populaire. Last year's disaster had been forgotten. The tale of the Opera Ghost was a myth, or a solo performance. Let the madman be damned! It was the opportunity of a lifetime to seize the position of principal singer, and win the adulation of Paris.

The halls were crowded with people as they brushed past each other, and moved from dressing rooms to the stage. As they waited their turn in the wings, men fingered their cravats, and frowned at their rivals' performances.

They were auditioning for Verdi's opera, Aida—the premiere opera of the season. First, it would be the singers, and then if all went well, auditions for the ballet would take place later in the week. On Friday, the new owners would visit and approve the cast.

At the owners' recommendation, M. DuChant had hired a very capable music director, a M. Antoine Meley.

M. Meley was a small man in his forties, neatly dressed, and with a perfectionist's attitude. He relished the fact that he would be rebuilding the opera from the ground up with a new cast of performers. He was streamlining the hiring, and would cut loose the hubris of a former, lack luster cast. _I will start with a clean slate, _he had thought with satisfaction when he had accepted the position. Already, he had discarded some of the names on the list that DuChant had given him. He was intimately familiar with many of the Parisian performers, and knew their merits and failings.

Standing in the newly constructed opera pit, he listened to the singers with a sharp ear. Each of them was assigned several parts that would show the scope of their ability.

In box five, the Opera Ghost watched the proceedings below, and made mental notes as to which singers were acceptable and which were not.

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The heavy man lined up the wagon with the open service doors. Grunting, he began unloading his goods. Shouldering the crates, he carried them into the storeroom as Jade watched. There she examined each container for defects, and noted when the order was complete. Several deliveries were scheduled for today, and it was her job to oversee them.

As she watched the wagon roll away, she took in a deep breath of that late September day. A horse whinnied in the nearby stable. Looking up at the sky, she followed the darkness that was moving in from the west. The air was becoming moist and heavy. It was just as well that she'd be working indoors today rather than outdoors with the horses.

Minutes later, the sky opened, and it began to rain. The steady stream soaked the streets as gusts of wind splattered the faces of beleaguered pedestrians.

During lunch, Jade walked to the dressmaker's to pick up the clothes that she had ordered the week before. As she waited in the shop for her items, she listened to two women and the proprietress discussing the fabrics that were to be used for their dresses. The owner offered the women several choices, and each was earnestly analyzed in detail. With her parcels in hand, Jade exited the shop, and shook off the empty chatter. She was glad that her happiness didn't depend upon the cut and trim of a new outfit.

The rain was coming down hard. Jade looked down the street that led towards the opera house, which was only a short distance away. Her wet hair was plastered against her face and her cloak was dripping. There was still plenty of time left before she had to be back to work. Impulsively, she walked in the opposite direction to the bookstore that she had found the previous week.

The bookstore was warm and comfortable with a small fire burning in the fireplace. Jade took off her cloak and set it aside. Pushing her damp hair back with her hands, she greeted the white haired woman.

"Good day Madame," said Jade.

"Good day Madame. Or, is it Mademoiselle?" asked the woman.

"It is Mademoiselle," replied Jade.

"Can I help you, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes. I am looking for a book that illustrates and discusses architectural plans. I work at the Opera Populaire, and I hope to be able to review the floor plans of the building. Do you have a book that would help me interpret them?"

"I have several books on architecture. One is a basic book of design that would include instructions on how to draw plans for a prospective design. Is that what you're looking for?" said the older woman.

"Perhaps. May I see it?" replied Jade.

While the woman looked for the book, Jade browsed the large bookcase in front of her. A title caught her eye so she pulled the book from the shelf and thumbed through it. It looked interesting and she carried it to the reading room. The architectural book was waiting on the table for her.

She quickly found the section that covered the information she was seeking. It was a very large, expensive book. This was the first time she had looked at professional and highly technical reading material. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the detail, she felt curious. _This is a useful book. It will help me understand my new home better, as well as Paris, _she thought.

Time passed quickly, and soon she needed to leave. Turning to the second book, she read it for a few minutes. It was completely different from the first. Whereas the architecture book was dry, and factual, this one was lively and literary. She wanted it as well, but decided that the architecture book was more important, and it would be her first purchase.

"Madame, if I give you a deposit today, would you be willing to set this book aside for me? I hope to be able to pay you the remainder within a month."

If the older woman was surprised by her choice, she showed no sign. She nodded amiably, and placed the book on a small table behind her. The other book remained on the counter.

Later, back in the office, Jade was thinking about the auditions. She would have liked to have gone to the auditorium and watch the performances. She hadn't heard opera before, and the faint sound of voices drifting to the offices was competing with the melody in her mind. Mme. Truffaut had said that if she wished to attend any of the auditions, she could rearrange her schedule for this week, as long as the deliveries were taken care of. Perhaps, at the end of the week, she would be able to watch some of the dancers audition.

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DuChant was sitting in his office when Antoine Meley entered. He stood up, and gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk.

Mentally, he congratulated himself that Meley had agreed to be the music director. It took a lot off his mind to have such a competent person in that critical position.

"How go the rehearsals, M. Meley?" he asked. Meley gave him a self-satisfied look and a tight smile.

"Well enough, M. DuChant. I think we have several good lead male singers. I'll be ready for the women tomorrow. Then we'll do a call back on Wednesday and probably finish with the selection of the chorus." He slowly placed his palms together to demonstrate the expected completion of his task.

"Excellent. Everything appears to be moving along quite nicely. I will need the names of your choices so that I can pass them on to M. and Mme. Deschamps."

Meley stiffened. "M. DuChant, it is my understanding that I will have the final say in the hiring of the cast. Are my choices to be approved or disapproved by the owners?" He looked sharply at DuChant as his lips tightened.

DuChant looked closely at the man in front of him. Meley had a reputation for being temperamental. He had already discussed this point once with him before offering him the position. He hoped that this wouldn't become a sticking point.

"M. Meley, the new owners have a great love of opera and considerable experience in this area. Mme. Deschamps is a former diva. Our agreement was that they would review all of your suggested hires, and make the final decision. I am certain that they will have a great respect for your choices and that if there are differences of opinion, they will be resolved to the satisfaction of all."

Meley was silent as he sized up DuChant. He fully intended to be the absolute authority when it came to choosing the cast. He also knew that he would have to play by the owner's rules, at least at first. Once he had become indispensable, then matters would change.

"Very well, M. DuChant. You will have my list on your desk by Thursday."

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As the sun set, Manette DuBois was walking to the café for her evening meal. Earlier that day, she had met the new ballet mistress, Mme.Therese Lacroix, an impressive woman. Manette was pleased that they would be working together. The ballet auditions would be held later in the week, and she was eager to attend. Mme. Lacroix had been kind enough to allow her to change her schedule so she could spend an hour a day in the auditorium.

When Manette sat down to supper, she wasn't in the least bit interested in the food. The only thing she could think of was ballet.

A considerably larger number of people were dining at the cafe this week as compared to the previous one. The management had been busily hiring new staff. Soon the luxury of a private table would be gone and every seat would be filled.

Looking across the room, she spied Jade eating her dinner as she quietly talked with Gillian. The child was now in the habit of regularly eating supper with her new friend. This was the third night in a row that they had dined together. Since their visit last week, the child had become less fearful. She hadn't had a nightmare in over a week.

Leaving her table, Manette crossed the room, and walked to Jade's table.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle" said Manette to Jade.

Jade looked up at Manette. The open and animated expression on her face that she'd had when talking with the child disappeared, and was replaced with a more guarded one.

"Good evening, Madame DuBois, " she replied quietly.

"I was wondering if you planned to attend any of the ballet auditions that will be held later this week? If so, I would like to know if you would be interested in taking Gillian to one of them. I think it would be good for her to see an audition." Manette already knew the answer to her question.

Gillian's eyes lit up like candles as she stared intensely at Jade. Jade smiled back at her, and then turned to Manette.

"That would be fine, Madame. I can let you know on the day of the rehearsal when I can come by, and collect her from your class."

"Very good. I'll look forward to seeing you then. Please feel free to call me by my first name, Manette." She smiled briefly at Jade, and then left the table.

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After supper, Jade walked down to the river where she sat for awhile. Then she strolled along the boulevard as she moved in time to the melody in her head. If she had been alone, she would have swung her arms in response to it, as a child does when she plays. The oppressive, rainy day had brought out a number of pedestrians who were enjoying the clear sky. She could feel that a change in weather was approaching, and guessed that it would soon be too chilly to walk without a wrap. She'd have to replace the old cloak that she had borrowed from the costume department with a new winter garment. But, at this moment, she chose not to dwell on necessities. Instead, she simply enjoyed the music in her head, the fine weather, and the loveliness of an early, autumn evening in Paris.

Returning to the opera house, she walked down the hall to her room. As she approached her door, she noticed the package that was leaning against the door. Looking down at it, she saw her name printed across it. She picked it up, and studied it with intense curiosity. _Pierre?_

Opening her door, she laid the package on the table, and lit the gaslight. Then she stared at the handwriting. It was done in a bold and expressive style. Slowly, she tore away the paper and exposed a simple, wooden box.

Lifting the lid, she found a book. Her mouth opened slightly with surprise. _This is definitely not from Pierre._

She was holding the book that she had wanted to buy in the bookstore, earlier that day. It was a copy of the novel JANE EYRE by Charlotte Bronte.

Setting the book down, Jade frowned. Who had seen her? Who could have known her interest?

She flipped open the book, and searched for a clue. Inside was a folded piece of paper. Opening it, she read:

**Mademoiselle,**

**Paris autumns and winters can be disagreeably cold. When the weather turns, you may find it more pleasant to explore a novel rather than the streets of Paris. **

**I have been told that this is a popular literary work that is enjoyed by well-read young women in both England and France.**

**Your obedient servant, **

The note was unsigned.

Jade ran her fingers over the book's cover. This couldn't be a coincidence. Someone had seen her in the bookstore, or they had quizzed the owner after she left. She would go back tomorrow and ask the woman.

She got up from the table and did a few tasks in her room. She hung up her new clothes in the wardrobe, and rearranged a vase of flowers. During the entire time, she was thinking about the book. It was a strange, disturbing, and oddly enough, an _attractive _gift._ A secret benefactor, _she thought. Was he or she a friend or foe? Two weeks ago, she would have assumed it was a foe, someone playing with her, or trying to control her. But now, after Pierre's generosity and her satisfying life here at the opera house, she was willing to entertain another idea.

Suddenly, she shook her head to dismiss the thought. _That's foolish and dangerous thinking! Remember the sound in the passageway last night? Was that a benefactor as well?_

Returning to the table, she stared at the book. After a few minutes, she opened it to the first chapter.

It had been a long time since she had owned a book. When she was a child, she used to sit in the kitchen and listen with joy when her mother read to her. She had held onto that good feeling long after her mother had pulled away and emotionally abandoned her.

She lit a few candles and carried them to the mirror. Then she settled into her chair and began to read. Slowly, she read several chapters, and savored the story. It was dark and hopeful at the same time. She imagined that she was in Jane Eyre's place in those extreme circumstances. The novel pulled her in. As she read it, she forgot about her room, her life, and the music in her mind.

Shutting the book, she extinguished the gaslight and undressed by candlelight. Then she blew out the candles and lay down on her bed. She thought about the gift. She was still disturbed by it. Someone was watching her _very closely._

She turned on her side and tried to put it out of her mind. This wasn't the sort of thing to think about just before bed. It could easily lead to nightmares. She decided to think about something else. _Gillian._ She would have more time with the child later this week. That was a pleasant prospect.

Jade focused on Gillian's face as she began to drift into sleep. But one last thought slipped in just before she faded from the conscious world. Part of her had _enjoyed_ getting a gift from an unknown stranger.

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He had followed her from the café to the river. There he watched her walk along the banks until she turned back to the opera house. On the last part of her trip, as she approached the hall that led to her room, he quickly moved ahead of her. Depositing the package at her door, he entered the hidden passage, and made his way to the two-way mirror.

He had debated whether or not to watch her reaction to his gift. He knew that she was extremely protective of her privacy. For the first time since living at the opera house, he had actually wondered if it would be wiser to respect another's needs rather than spy upon them. But old habits won out, urged on by his insatiable curiosity.

As she unwrapped the book, he witnessed her astonishment and the frown that followed.

While she read, her face lost the guarded quality that often rested there. Her lips softened and became fuller. Although not a beauty in the classic sense of the word, _she doesn't have Christine's exquisite features, _her face had a special loveliness in the candlelight and her eyes were exceptional. She was clearly enjoying her gift.

He stayed to watch her undress and for the first time he saw her scantily clothed. When she changed in the stable, she had more undergarments on. Now she was nearly naked. Her small breasts were bound with a makeshift cloth that served as a substitute for a corset. When she was finished, she reached for the last candle and leaned towards it. As she prepared to blow it out, the small glow lit up her glossy hair. Against a backdrop of blackness, he saw her slim waist and arched brow in profile. His gaze moved to her half closed eyelids, and traveled along the curve of her cheek to the delicate pursing of her lips. Then she disappeared into the darkness.

Heading back to his home, he carried a small lantern, which lit a faint pathway ahead. He had enjoyed giving her the book. And he had enjoyed watching her use it. Gifts were useful things. They could express appreciation. They could also spark reactions in the recipient, reactions that an astute observer could use to gather insights about the person studied. He had learned something about her tonight. It was something that he would be able to use when he chose to interact with her face to face.

He smiled as he thought of the architecture book. She was full of surprises.


	12. Chapter 12 Wounds

**Chapter 12 Wounds**

Jade bent over the horse's leg, and probed the festering wound. It looked bad. The roan mare quietly shifted her weight away from her gentle hands. Looking up at the horse, Jade noted the pain in her eyes. As she stroked the mare's neck, she murmured to her to settle her down a bit. Then she went back to the unpleasant job of cleaning the wound.

Yesterday, Rascon had wrapped the leg with a poultice to draw out the infection. His quick attention to the injury had probably slowed down its progression, but now the wound looked like it needed more than a poultice.

Jade was worried about the roan mare, and angry with herself for not having checked in sooner than today. She'd been busy all week in the office. Now it was Thursday and her day to work in the stable. _If only I had come by on Tuesday._ If they lost the mare because of her carelessness…

Rascon stood quietly outside the stall, and watched her tend to the mare. The normal scowl that he had when she was around was gone. He was worried about the horse. If the woman knew anything that could help, then for once he wouldn't stand in her way.

Turning to him, she asked, "Where is the nearest shop that sells medicine and herbs?"

"The closest one is about a half hour away on foot. I can get one of the boys from the house to fetch something for you," he said.

"It would be better if I went. But if the boy knows the way, he can take me there," she replied.

The herb shop was located on a narrow street. Jade and the boy entered the windowless building, and passed into a poorly lit interior. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, and released a heavy aroma that permeated the large room. An old man standing behind the counter ignored them as he bent over a box, and sorted through the twigs and leaves that were inside. Jade looked around, and peered at the hanging bundles suspended from the ceiling as she identified a number of familiar plants. She had already seen one of the herbs she needed, and was eyeing it to determine its quality. Breaking off a leaf, she crumbled it between her fingers and brought it to her nose.

Later at the stable, she pulled out her bag, and set about making the salve. She was certain that she knew most of the ingredients in the formula except for one mystery component. The herb in question had a particular smell when combined with the other parts of the salve. She hoped that she had guessed right, and had everything that she needed.

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That afternoon, Jade and Gillian sat in the auditorium, and watched the auditions. A single dancer circled the stage in front of the music director and ballet mistress. Antoine Meley and Mme. Lacroix were standing several yards from the dancer, and exchanging comments in low voices as they evaluated her performance.

Squirming in her seat, Gillian leaned over the back of the red velvet chair in front of her, as she peered at the dancer. Jade sat next to her with her hand gently resting on the child's back, as she distantly watched the activity below.

She was thinking about the roan mare and what could be done for her. The salve that she had made hadn't been the right one, and she had run out of ideas. Instead of focusing on the dancing, she was feeling helpless and frustrated. She had come to the auditions to please Gillian, and to give her own mind a rest. But now she was restless, and wanted to go back to the stable. Perhaps Rascon had come up with another idea since they had spoken last.

Looking around her, she noticed that the auditorium repairs were completed. Gone was the damage that she had seen the first time she came here. The chandelier was back in place, the stage was whole again, and the red seats stretched on and on in front of her. Shutting her eyes, she thought she could hear the whisper of the crowds that would soon descend upon this place. As a rule, she wasn't fond of crowds. But for this room, crowds were essential. It was a place that had been built to absorb the excitement of gatherings. It was more like a living being than simply a giant room, and filling it up with people would pump blood through its veins.

Jade looked up, and saw Manette approaching. The woman had been making overtures of friendship toward her for the last week. _She seems determined to have me as a friend, _she mused.She had no idea why the woman was drawn to her, and so she had kept her at arms length, and hadn't encouraged her attentions.

"Hello, Mademoiselle. Are you enjoying the auditions? I have some time to spare, may I join you and Gillian?" Manette's eyes were sparkling with excitement.

Jade glanced at the child who looked happy to see her teacher. She nodded a brief yes to the woman, and turned back to the stage. The lone dancer had been replaced by several other dancers who were moving in tandem under the direction of the ballet mistress. Jade restlessly wondered what they were trying to accomplish.

Gillian left her seat and sat next to her teacher who pressed the child's hand, and gave her a gentle smile.

The three watched as the dancers moved across the stage. Occasionally, Manette would comment on a dancer's performance. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and soon Gillian was bubbling with energy.

Feeling distracted by her companions, Jade wanted to be alone where she could think. She had looked forward to viewing the dancing all week but was now disinterested. After a half hour, she excused herself and left.

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She quickly returned to her room in order to change back into her stable clothes. As she raced toward her door, she saw two parcels leaning against it. Eyeing them, she recognized the handwriting. _The same as before, _she thought with a thrill of excitement.

Stepping into her room, she examined the parcels for a few minutes before opening them. Shifting them from one hand to the other, she judged their weight and tried to guess what was inside. Her curiosity and excitement were rising as she prolonged the pleasurable suspense. Finally, she unwrapped the large one.

Inside was a heavy winter cloak made of fine wool that was a light, camel colored brown. She ran her hands over it and pressed into its softness. Then she unfolded the garment, and laid it across her shoulders. Turning, she looked at herself in the huge, wall mirror.

She was transformed.

The cloak was simply cut and elegantly designed. When she turned, the edge of the garment trailed behind her, and then with a flourish caught up. The fabric was alive with movement. The soft brown tone highlighted her eyes and enhanced their elusive and distinct green color. It struck her that the cloak's color had been chosen for her.

It was perfect. Lacking frills and other unnecessary details, it went beyond the foolish styles of the time. The color was so natural that if she chose to sit in the woods, she would simply disappear into the background.

Who had made this for her?

She removed the cloak, and laid it across her knees as she took her seat. Stroking it, she looked thoughtfully into the mirror.

Part of her was intensely curious, and wanted to meet the person who in some ways knew her better than she knew herself. It was a mystery and a little like a fairytale, these gifts. If she hadn't had a history of a hard life, which had made her naturally suspicious, she would have been enchanted by her benefactor's insight and intelligence.

But life had taught her that everything had a price.

Jade was thinking about what acceptance of a gift like this would mean. If she wore the cloak, it would be a declaration to the giver that she accepted his or her attentions. It was as good as hanging a sign on her back that announced an open invitation to her person. If it were somebody like Manette, the consequences could be uncomfortable but not severe. On the other hand, if it were a man, it could be dangerous to make such a statement.

Long ago, there had been other gifts, which had been intended as devices to lure her into submission and acquiescence. After the presents had come degradations and shame. That ugly memory caused her to shudder, and she quickly forced it from her mind.

_Nothing is free, _she mulled.

Turning to the table, she ran her fingers along the cover of the book. _Who is giving me these things?_

On Tuesday, she had returned to the bookstore and questioned the owner about the book. Had anyone asked about her or what she had been reading? The woman shook her head in surprise and said no. No one had come into the shop for at least a half hour after Jade had left. If they had, the silver bell above the door would have wrung and signaled to her. Also, before the next customer had entered, the woman had put away the books that Jade had been reading.

At the time, Jade decided that the choice of that particular book had to be a coincidence. The writer of the note had said that the book was popular, and read by young women in two countries.

But now, she doubted that any part of this was a coincidence. It was beginning to feel like a plan. She was the mouse and this was the bait.

Slowly, she removed the cloak, and carefully folded it. Carrying it to her dresser, she gently placed it into a drawer, and then looked at it for a few moments before hesitantly closing the drawer. Tomorrow she would return to the dressmaker, and order a winter cloak that was not as fine as this one. When the unseen person saw her in it, it would give an unmistakable message that his or her attentions were not wanted.

She turned to the smaller parcel. It was wrapped as neatly and carefully as the first. Inside, she found a tin container. When she opened the tin, a familiar, pungent aroma caused her to wrinkle her nose. It was a salve, _the salve_ that she had tried to make earlier in the day but had failed! She looked at the tin with wonder. Cradling it in her hands, she brought it to her lips, and kissed it with gratitude. Then she turned to the great mirror, as if it had the power to carry her message to whomever she wished, and said in a clear voice, "Thank you."

Quickly changing into her stable clothes, she took the precious tin, and locked her door.

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_Today I will give her another gift,_ he thought with satisfaction.

It was morning and he was standing in the passageway that was closest to the stable. He had planned on seeing her later in the evening when she retired. But when he thought of her this morning, he felt an impulse to seek her out.

It was always risky to move abroad during the day. There were still people who remembered the Opera Ghost. There were few places to hide in the stable, and if he were seen it could mean trouble.

He silently moved along the corridor, and positioned himself close to the stable entrance. The stable manager and Jade were standing outside of a stall in the middle of the stable. Making his way to an empty stall nearby, he listened to their conversation.

"It's not going to work," said Jade. Her voice had a heavy, dull quality.

"It might help. It's better than sitting around and doing nothing," replied Rascon. His voice had an odd hint of hope.

"No it won't. It doesn't have the right odor. It's missing a necessary ingredient." She stared at the horse and said, "We don't have much time. At this rate, we could lose her in a few days."

They briefly talked about other things that might help the mare. Then they left the stable, and walked in the direction of the café.

After they'd gone, he found the salve that Jade had made and the herbs that she had used. Then he went to the mare, and examined her wound to determine what he was dealing with.

The mare's wound was severe. She was right to be concerned. He couldn't wait until evening to get the herbs.

He was thinking of a formula that the old gypsy woman used to make for the infected wounds of the camp's horses. There was a particular herb that she favored that when added in combination with other key ingredients gave off a sharp, pungent aroma. Jade had most of the ingredients but had missed that herb.

Hailing a carriage, he shielded his face from the driver. When they arrived at the shop he paid the driver extra to go in and get what he needed. On returning to the opera house, the carriage stopped a few streets away. From there he walked to the iron-gate that led to the cave, and quickly traveled to his home. Time was essential.

Later, he went to the auditorium, and found her watching the auditions with the child and another woman, a ballet teacher. When she left, he followed her back to her room. Moving ahead of her, he left the parcels at her door. His inclination was to enter the passage that led to her room, and watch as she unwrapped her gifts. Instead, he took another route, and headed towards the management offices. Meley had said that he would be leaving the list of prospective cast members on DuChant's desk on Thursday. He wanted to know who had been selected.

The office was empty. After a brief search, he found the list. Glancing at it, he saw that Meley and he had agreed upon the principals. Leaving the office, he strolled back through the passages to his home.

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He stretched out on his couch, with his long legs fully extended. Casually, he rolled a coin between his fingers, something he did now and then to keep a magician's dexterity. He was thinking of the cloak that he had designed for her. It would have been amusing to see her expression when she opened the package. He knew that she would be pleased. It had been a challenge to design something for her. Instinctively, he had known that she would reject any article of clothing that was frilly or overdone, which was the fashion of the day. He had had to reach back into the past for a more classical look. The color had been chosen because of its natural appearance and because it would bring out the color of her eyes. Finally, he had selected cashmere because it would add richness and sinuosity to the garment.

Soon the weather would change, and she would be wearing his gift. It would be enjoyable to watch her move in it. She carried herself well.

Tomorrow morning, he would check on the horse, and see how her leg was healing.

He got up and with a light step went to the organ. There was a melody in his mind that he wished to explore. It was a counterpoint to one of the melodies from Aida.

Stretching out his hands, he closed his eyes and began to play.

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It was the end of the day. Jade left the stable with a feeling of exhilaration and hope. The mare seemed to be improving. Once again, she wished a blessing on the person who had made the salve. If she ever met him or her face-to-face, she would ask for the name of the unknown herb, and express her heartfelt gratitude for the gift.

That evening she took a long, hot bath. It was always a pleasure to have an extended soak after working in the stable.

As she dried her hair, she glanced at the book on the table. Another chapter awaited her. She combed out her hair and slipped into her nightgown. The room was beginning to feel uncomfortably chilly. Autumn had come. Soon she would need extra blankets.

Jade went to the dresser, and pulled out the beautiful cloak. Wrapping it around her, she sat in the chair and began to read her nightly chapter. With the warm feeling of the bath in her muscles and the soft fabric against her cheek, she dreamily wondered if Jane Eyre would ever find love.


	13. Chapter 13 Longing

**A/N: the character Nadir is taken from the novel Phantom by Susan Kay.**

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** Chapter 13 Longing**

Pierre stood on the stairwell landing and shifted the heavy basket that he held to his other arm. Then his long legs effortlessly climbed the last few steps. Standing in front of the apartment door, he eyed the fruit in the basket. Yvette was fond of cooking and baking so he had brought her plenty of fresh rhubarb and table grapes, along with a large honeycomb. Raising his hand to knock, he suddenly heard singing and paused to listen. Yvette's clear voice penetrated the door, and her uninhibited song filled him with pleasure. When she finished, he knocked loudly.

The door opened slightly and she peered out at him. Then it quickly opened, and Yvette stood in front of him with a half smile.

"Pierre. It's about time that I finally see you. Lately, you have been too scarce." She wrapped her arms around his waist, and pulled him towards her. He laughed lightly as he juggled the basket.

Placing the basket of produce on the kitchen table he unloaded it as she hovered close to him. Quickly she moved around him, and plucked a large grape from the basket. Biting into it, she softly sucked the juice out as she held it in her teeth. Her overtly sensuous action caused his groin to tighten. Turning away from her, he focused on unpacking the rest of the goods.

Reaching into the cupboard, she pulled out a bottle of wine, and filled two glasses. Then she handed him one, and raised the other to her lips. Pierre watched her full, top lip fold over the edge of the wine glass, and his groin tightened a little more.

They sat at the table and talked while they shared a meal. The sun was shining through the kitchen window, and lit up the room with a comfortable, golden light. The wine loosened their tongues, and after the first two glasses they were trading stories about what had happened to each of them in the last few weeks.

Tears of laughter rolled down Yvette's face as she told him about the customer who had ripped his pants so badly during their encounter that she had to go to a neighbor's apartment and buy a pair from him. The look on his face had been priceless when she handed him the pants, and charged him triple for what she had paid for them.

When the second bottle of wine was nearly finished, there was a warm silence between them. Yvette ran her fingers along the rim of her glass, and made a hollow musical tone. Pierre watched, mesmerized by the lazy movements of her shapely fingers. It was half past four, and he had arranged to meet Jade at half past six for dinner.

She shifted her attention from the wine glass to Pierre. It was obvious that he had something on his mind, and that he was holding back. She decided to take the lead.

"It's been at least three weeks since you were last here. Has something new happened that you'd like to tell me about?" She said as she gave him a casual smile.

Pierre looked at her flushed cheeks. She had a lovely face. He had always thought it a shame that she had chosen the work she did. She was bright and pretty, and could have been a good wife to any man. Instead, she had compromised herself. There had been nights when he had held her in his arms, and she had cried over her regrets.

Fiddling with his knife, he tried to decide how to begin.

"Yvette, two weeks ago a young woman came to my market stall and needed my help. She was very tired and hungry. She was starving. I brought her to the opera house that my friend manages, and he hired her. I'm also now a vendor to the opera house so I spend my Friday nights there. I'll be going there tonight to sleep."

He paused and looked at her for a moment. _There, I said it. I won't be spending the night here with her._

Yvette was sitting back in her chair with her eyes half closed. That last piece of information had said it all. Then she leaned forward, and laid her hand upon his.

"Pierre, are you in love with this woman?" she asked softly. Her low voice had a husky tone and her eyes were unwavering.

Sighing, he leaned closer to her. Her hand was warm in that slightly chilly room. Yvette only put a fire on when it was very cold outside or when she was preparing for a customer. Her graceful, long neck was bare, and her shoulders were skimpily covered with a flowery wrap. She never seemed to mind the cold much. _She's a warm person inside and out, _he thought with affection.

Pierre thoughtfully considered the question. What exactly did he feel about Jade? He'd been asking himself that since he first set eyes on her. He came here today to talk with his good friend about his feelings. He also knew that in revealing them, he would change their relationship. There was no other choice. They had always been honest with each other.

"I'm not sure what I'm feeling, Yvette. I'm drawn to her, but I know very little about her. When I'm with her, I feel as if I'm twenty again, and as if the whole world was just beginning. I haven't felt this way since…" he paused. He suddenly realized something. He saw a connection. _Madeleine._

"Does she remind you of Madeleine?' Yvette asked. Her eyes were softly curious. At that moment, she looked more like a sister than a lover.

"Yes, she does. I don't know why I didn't see it before. She doesn't really look like her except for her dark hair. But the way she moves, her independence and strength, and a certain look she has in her eyes when she looks away from me…" he stood up and briefly paced the room, then came back to the table and took Yvette's hand.

"But it's not just that. By her own rights, she's extraordinary!"

"But you still don't know if that's enough," stated Yvette. Her tone had a hint of sarcasm and disappointment.

Pierre noticed it, and gave her a keen look. Yvette had been a good friend these last three years. And in the last two she had given herself willingly to him. She had satisfied his undeniable need for intimate contact, and he had tried to satisfy hers as well. Now he was wondering if he had failed her.

"Yvette," he said in a low voice, "you're the last person that I'd ever hurt."

She waved her hand as if she was casually swatting at a fly. Then she got up, and began clearing the dishes and food from the table. Pierre watched her as she moved through the kitchen in a deliberate and casual manner. Unsure of what she was feeling, he waited expectantly. Outside, voices drifted down the hallway as two of the tenants argued. The volume was rising, and soon there would be a fight. His muscles tensed in response to the angry voices. At the same time, he became aware of a growing sense of loss.

A sharp look was in her eyes when she finally sat down and faced him. The softness and hardness of her nature were battling across her face. Softness finally won, and she poured them both the last of the wine.

"Be careful Pierre. It is best to know your own heart before you seek to entangle it with another's," she said in a matter of fact way.

His brow was furrowed as he leaned back into his chair; his eyes now level with hers. In spite of her profession she had always had a tender side to her. He knew that this conversation was taxing it. He waited for her to continue.

"If she were to fall in love with you, and you only gave half of yourself to her, would that be fair?" Her comment stung, for it pointed to a truth in their relationship. There had always been a silent agreement between them that neither one would allow themselves to fall in love with the other. Madeleine had always been there in that room, even during their most passionate encounters.

He answered her. "She needs a good friend, Yvette. Someone she can trust. Whatever else happens between us, I will be her friend."

Nodding, she rose from the table. She walked towards the bedroom with that slight swaying of her hips that always made his groin throb, and then turned to him as she stood in the doorway. "Remember Pierre, all women are not as good at caging their hearts as I am." With that, she entered the bedroom and closed the door.

Pierre sat alone in the kitchen for a few minutes. Then he shouldered his basket and left, as he quietly closed the door behind him.

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That afternoon, Jade brought the large gray Percheron into the stable after an exercise session. She loved these gentle, giant horses. She assumed they were used for pulling sets around and to operate certain mechanisms in the opera house. But she'd also seen them on the streets of Paris pulling large carts and carriages. She thought of Gillian, and what fun it would be to teach her to ride by sitting her on top of one of these huge horses. She could bring several of her friends and there'd be room for them all.

First thing that morning, she had looked in on the roan mare. The wound had looked considerably better than it had the night before. It was already beginning to heal. _The salve is amazing,_ she had marveled.

Walking behind the stable to the back yard, she studied the exercise pens. She was thinking about creating a training area in the far corner of the yard. It was a big enough area for a round pen, which could be useful for new horses that needed lessons.

Slowly, she returned to the stable, as she thought of the person who had given her the salve. It had been a personal gift from someone who understood how important the horses were to her. She smiled as she thought about the gifts. They were insightful and unorthodox. That is why she hadn't ruled out the possibility that it might be a woman. Not one was traditionally romantic. No flowers, or sweets, or jewelry to turn her head.

She went through her mental list of who could be watching her. It was someone who had access to the stables and had seen her working with the mare yesterday. But there had been no one there except Rascon. _Rascon! _No, that was too odd to consider. He generally despised her, although he had been downright decent today. And she doubted that he had the kind of imagination or creative streak to produce the cloak.

One thought kept repeating itself in her head. She had a debt to repay. What could she give back in return?

The day passed quickly. It was in the late afternoon that a new arrival came to the stable.

The stallion was brought in tied to a large cart and towed behind. How they had attached him to that piece of equipment was a mystery to everyone who saw him arrive that day. When the cart stopped, the two men signaled for help as they tried to get the horse into the stable. Hearing the commotion outside, Rascon came out and sized up the situation. By then, the stallion's eyes were rimmed with white, and he was squealing with fury. He fought the men, and it took nearly a half hour to get him into the stall. After his release, the men pulled back fast from the slashing teeth as the horse flew at them. They left the halter on him since it would be nearly impossible to get another one on later.

Rascon barked at the two men, "What fool ordered you to bring that devil here?" He was told that the horse belonged to a M. Meley who had recently purchased it from their employer.

The men walked away, and Rascon watched the animal that was crashing against the walls of the stall. He shook his head in disgust, and checked the stall door latch. He'd need to reinforce it.

Turning around, he saw Jade behind him. Her eyes were fixed on the stallion, and there was a far off look in them. Rascon looked at her sharply, and then a suspicion crossed his mind. _God help us if she thinks she can ride that devil. I'd better talk with DuChant about this. I won't be responsible if she gets her neck broken. _He turned to her, and said in a rough voice, "That horse belongs to M. Meley. It's his personal property, and we won't be working with it." Then he spun on his heel, and walked to his workshop.

Jade watched as the chocolate brown stallion tore around his stall. He moved with astonishing grace. He knew the distance from one wall to the next and had perfect timing as he attacked each in its turn. His long neck twisted and thrashed about with a powerful, sinewy energy. His large eyes, small head, and large nostrils showed the Arabian in him. He was absolutely wild.

She judged the distance carefully so that when his head came over the stall door, his bared teeth came close to her face. She held her ground, and calmly looked him in the eyes. He fiercely stared back at her for a long minute. Then growing tired of the encounter, he turned his back on her, and completely ignored her.

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Later that evening, Pierre and Jade walked along the river. The meal had been excellent and both were pleasantly full. Pierre was singing a local folk song. His voice was deep and sweet sounding. As Jade walked beside him, she felt it coloring her senses. Along the boulevard, shapes were softened and edges blurred in the light of the half eaten moon. The weight of the night air gently pressed on their shoulders, as it pushed them closer to each other.

Pierre was wearing a dress shirt that he had brought for their visit to the fine restaurant. Once again, Jade became distinctly aware of his good looks. It was pleasant to be with a man as handsome as him who was without smugness or vanity.

Ahead was a bench at an overlook where a backdrop of trees draped their branches, and created a private alcove for confidants. They sat, and gazed at the river while Pierre spoke of his plans for building a new section onto his house. He needed more room, and was currently working on the design.

"Pierre, next time you come here, would you bring your plans so that I can look at them?" Jade asked.

Pierre looked down at her with surprise, and then smiled. "Of course I will. But they're not much to look at. They're just basic sketches that lack imagination."

Jade gazed at the river that flowed below them with its slow moving current. She never tired of this place. She turned to Pierre who was smiling down at her. Exactly when had she started to feel this comfortable with him? It seemed as if they had been friends for a long time, yet she had only known him a couple of weeks. At supper, she had almost told him why she had come to Paris. When he talked about his family and his orchards, it reminded her of her childhood home. It felt good to hear of his simple life. It gave her hope that someday she too would be content and happy.

After an hour by the river, they returned to the opera house. As they walked the long hallway to their rooms, Jade accidentally brushed against Pierre. His skin tingled at her touch, and the sensation ran up his forearms to his neck and chest. He looked down at her to see if she too had been affected. She was walking calmly beside him as she looked towards her room, and appeared to be unaware of his reaction.

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He listened to their conversation as they lingered in the alcove by the river.

_Why do you suddenly need a larger house, Monsieur? Do you have plans to take a wife in the near future?_

The first time he had seen them together, the man had hovered close to her, and she had been indifferent to him. That had changed. She was now leaning towards him as they talked. She was acting differently with him than with others. Her normal stiffness and aloofness had receded, and was replaced by an acceptance of his nearness. An intimacy was growing between them.

His jaw tightened as he thought of the man's intrusion into his affairs.

As they moved away, he watched them from a distance. While trailing them to the opera house, he pondered his situation.

He was not in love with her. His heart still belonged to Christine. But since this young woman had come to his opera house, his boredom had disappeared. The eternal dullness had lifted. He had started composing again, and he would have been a fool if he had not recognized that she was the impetus that had broken the ice jam of his blocked music. Since she had come, life had acquired a new excitement.

He enjoyed the way she stood aloof from others, and attached her self to simpler beings, such as horses or children. In that way they were alike. He was curious as to what had made her that way.

Some day she would dance to his music. The thought of her leaping through the air or folding in upon herself in response to the songs that he would play was intensely stimulating. But he wouldn't rush their first encounter. He would be patient, and allow time for her to become interested in what he would offer her. Gifts were the first devices he would use to pique her curiosity.

She was entranced with the gothic novel that he had given her. _I will create drama for her that will fire her imagination. My opera house is a superb setting for a novel. I will weave a spell of familiarity that will comfort her, and add enough of the unknown to lure the adventurer in her._

He watched them as they turned towards the opera house. His eyes narrowed and focused on the man. _I will not get the chance to complete my plan if this farmer woos her away from here._

Inside of his cloak was a pocket that held his Punjab lasso. It would be very easy to eliminate this nuisance.

He had promised Nadir at their farewell in Persia that he would not kill again unless in self-defense. In the final months of his last year with Christine, madness had gotten the better of him. Killing had again become natural and easy. Everyone had become his enemy as they plotted to take Christine away from him. He had lost his reason and part of his skill as he desperately fought for his survival, for his reason for living: _Christine._

Touching the supple rope in his pocket, he thought, _It would be easy. _

What would she think if she found out that he had eliminated her suitor? Surely hatred would follow. That was the trouble with having sanity and a conscience, it made one aware of the consequences of one's actions.

He prowled the opera house, restless, unable to sleep. The old familiar insomnia was back. Eventually, he entered the staff quarters. First he went to the mirror that was in Pierre's room. The man was lying on the bed, stretched out with his chest exposed. It would be simple to open the mirror, and enter while the man was sleeping. He would never know. It would be over without a sound.

Backing away from the sight, he turned towards her room. She was sitting at the table reading, and wrapped in the cloak that he gave her. Her glossy hair fell over the back of it, and her face looked small and child like as she focused intensely on the story. He wondered how far she was from the ending. When she finished the novel, he would have to think of something else for her to read. Perhaps Byron. Would she enjoy poetry?

He watched her hands as she turned the pages. They were very small with square palms and long fingers: an artist's hands. The long fingers indicated a tendency to thoughtfulness and artistry, the square palms a strongly practical and productive nature, and the smallness of the hand showed an intensely spontaneous drive that would rule her life.

He thought of how he could enter her chamber as she slept. It was a satisfying thought. Since he had seen her dance on the stage, he had at times wanted to visit her. But if she saw him, it would be over, for she would leave. They must not meet until the time was right.

Traveling to the hallway that led to her room, he noticed something on her door. It was a folded piece of paper with the words **Thank you**.

He removed the note and pocketed it, and then quickly left the staff quarters.

Later that night, after several hours at the organ, he sat at his table, and retrieved the note from his cape. Opening it, he read:

**Dear benefactor,**

**I am certain that you already know that the mare is recovering from her injury. The salve you made worked beautifully. I am grateful that you gave it to me.**

**I am reading the book. I am sorry to say that I will not be using the cloak. I have already ordered a winter cloak and that one will do nicely. **

_Liar_ _You are using it at this moment, _he thought as he smirked.

**You know who I am, but I know nothing of you. Do you not think that the time has come for us to meet?** **Would it not be more satisfying to receive my gratitude in person rather than watching it afar from the shadows?**

**I propose a meeting between us. My only condition is that it be in a public place. You could send me a note telling me when and where. Also, a signal would be useful so that I may recognize you**.

**I have told no one of your gifts. They are a secret between you and me. **

**Sincerely, **

**Jade Bouta**

He folded the note neatly, and placed it in a drawer. It was his first letter from her. There would be more. She would chafe under the control of his anonymity but it would also intrigue her. By the time they met, she would be eager for the encounter.

He touched the mask as he thought of how Christine had spoiled his plan to win her on their only night together. This wasn't a courtship. It would be different this time.

He pulled out a sheet of paper, and wrote a response to her letter as he unconsciously hummed a melody from the opera Romeo and Juliet.

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**A/N: thank you readers and reviewers for patiently staying with this story. I know it's atypical because of it taking awhile for the OW to meet the Phantom. Just hang in there a little longer.**


	14. Chapter 14 Encounter

**Warning: this chapter contains violence.**

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** Chapter 14 Encounter**

That Sunday morning, Jade walked the back passages of the opera house alone. The silence and dim light were soothing. She was enjoying being there, away from the tiresome activity of others. There was an otherworldly quality to the place that gave her the same feeling that she had when she was swimming underwater for long stretches at a time: that of being encased yet powerfully free. Her lantern cast a small glow ahead that touched the rough-hewn walls. As she walked further inward, the darkness deepened.

She listened carefully as she moved through the passageways, watching for rats, ghosts and humans who didn't belong there. In her right hand was a long, heavy walking stick, and in her pocket was a knife.

Yesterday, Pierre had told her the tale of the man who had once haunted the opera house, and who had left his mark.

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When he finished the tale, Pierre sat back and watched for Jade's reaction. She was sitting at the café table in a reverie as she looked through the window to the street beyond.

"So, it was a love story of a sort?" she asked him and the café and nobody in particular.

Pierre looked at her curiously and then answered her. "If it was, it was one sided with tragic results."

"What did the man look like? Was it really horrible?" She asked it with idle curiosity, as if the answer were irrelevant.

"DuChant never said."

Jade moved in her seat, and continued to stare out the window as if she were watching a performance. Her hands were placed in front of her on the table, one upon the other. She appeared very relaxed and undisturbed by the news.

Moments later, she looked up at him. "Pierre, was he the real reason you decided to take a room so close to mine?' she asked with a lift of her right eyebrow.

He smiled at her and shrugged. "Yes," he said. What was the point of lying? If she felt angered by his strategy then this was as good as anytime to deal with it.

Jade looked at Pierre for a few seconds, then turned back to the street. _Should I mention the footstep in the passageway? _ She decided against it.

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_Opera Ghost._ That's what he had called himself.

She continued onward, mapping out the area. There was an occasional inconsistency between the actual passages and the architectural plans that she had studied on Friday. Some modifications had been done. She wondered why.

After a couple hours of exploring, she found a widening of one of the passages that was a good place to have lunch. With her back against the wall, she munched on bread and cheese, and reflected on the last week.

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The stallion was as wild as she had at first thought. He fiercely attacked anyone who approached his stall. Cleaning out the stall and providing fresh water had been difficult. Rascon had devised a technique where he would drop a noose on the animal's head from above, and then tether him temporarily until basic things could be done. In the mean time, the stallion would thrash about and scream until the work was completed. Rascon hated the whole process and cursed Meley each time it was necessary.

Meley had paid one visit to the stable to examine his new acquisition. When he had moved towards the horse, the animal had immediately charged him. His eyes hardened as he was forced to quickly back away. Standing at a safe distance, he had fingered the whip he carried, and had glowered at the animal. Later, Rascon explained the rope trick to him, and the two men discussed it briefly. Then they left the stable, stood outside of the main entrance, and talked for another five minutes before Meley left.

Rascon had warned Jade to stay away from the stallion. On that matter, she didn't dare to openly defy him. During the day, she left Rascon to his own devices when it came to the horse. Nighttime was a different matter. When it was dark and she was sure that Rascon and the stable hand were gone, she returned to the stable to work with the stallion.

She used various tricks to win him over such as sugar, singing to him, and standing closer to his stall until he became accustomed to her presence. Perhaps it helped that she was a woman and smaller than a man. There was nothing threatening about her. Last night there had been a breakthrough, and the horse had allowed her within two feet of him. Standing there and looking into his large eyes, she felt a deep peace in his presence. He was living, breathing perfection, a testimony to the grace and beauty of wild things untouched by humans. If he had been hers, she would have never ridden him. Instead, she would have given him a herd of mares, and spent endless days watching him race among them in triumph.

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Jade finished her walk through the passages. It had revealed no ghosts or mad men, only handfuls of spiders and rats.

It was her day off and she had planned to take one of the horses for an extended ride. The passage she was in would take her to another one and then to another, and finally to the stable. As she turned the corner, she heard a distant sound. _Strange. _It sounded like singing but it wasn't a human voice. _Sirens, _she thought. _Yes, that is how I'd imagine sirens would sound like if I came upon them at night._

She felt a chill along her spine, and her heart began to beat harder. Unconsciously she picked up her pace, and was trotting down the passageway towards the sound.

The sound changed. It was no longer the song of sirens. It was screaming.

A terror arose in her. As its urgency gripped her mind, rational thought began to recede.

She burst out of the hallway into the stable where the sound was coming from. It was high pitched but softer, and fading with ragged breaths in between. She ran to its source.

Dashing into the stall, she saw blood. It was splattered on the walls and slicked the stall floor. The man who stood at the end of the stall was covered in it. His back was to her as his arm rose and fell while the whip cut at the flesh of the dazed and shuddering horse.

The blood filled her senses, and took over her mind.

Without thinking, she raised her heavy stick over her head, and brought it down upon the man's head. There was a cracking thud as it hit bone. The whip fell from the man's hand as he staggered backwards and fell to the floor. There he lay on his back looking up at her with unseeing eyes as he faded towards unconsciousness.

Jade stared past the still figure, unaware of what she was about to do next. Her arms raised the stick again and the weapon swung in an arc over her head as it prepared to crush the man's skull.

Suddenly, she was pulled backwards and up. Twisting into the air, she was gripped by an iron force. Then her head and nose were bouncing against an unknown surface as the floor rushed below her eyes. She was moving but she wasn't moving her legs. Her arms wouldn't work, and she couldn't feel them. She was trapped.

With a convulsive jerk, she flung herself about in order to escape. But the iron grip held her firmly. She had no sense of time or place, only a primal need to free herself. Panting heavily, she struggled and growled as she instinctively threw all of her strength against the force that held her. Then a glimmering of her rational mind sensed a shifting, a door opening, and her body suddenly lying against the smooth surface of a floor. She was in total darkness.

As Jade lay there, she eventually came back to herself. That mindless part of her that had fought against the force that restrained her, and struck the blood stained man disappeared.

She was alone, and could not move her arms. She was beginning to realize that she was in a very bad situation.

Her hands were bound behind her, but her feet were free. Getting to her feet, she cautiously moved through the space. She found a door, and tried to work its handle with her head and shoulder. Then she lay on her back, and tried to open it with her feet. No luck.

Continuing to explore the room, she looked for a sharp edge that she could scrape the binding against and free her hands. She found what might have been a table edge. Gritting her teeth, she furiously worked her hands against the edge, and refused to think of what would happen if she didn't get free.

She still felt dazed. Something had happened before this room but she couldn't remember what it was.

Then she heard the lock turn in the door. Quickly, she leaned her back against the wall that was opposite from the door. Turning her head to the side, she lowered it, and waited.

The door opened. The dim light of the hallway framed the tall figure that stood there for a moment. Then the door was closed and a lantern was lit. She watched him out of the corner of her nearly shuteyes as he turned and faced her. Closer he came until he was only a few feet away.

Her head came up and she sprang at him. She caught his midsection with her knee, and he tumbled to the floor. Leaping over him, she headed for the door. Then she tried to grab the door with her bound hands. He was on her before she could open it.

His gloved hand was across her mouth and his masked face was within inches of her own as he pressed the full weight of his body against her, and pinned her to the door. His lips were close to her ear when he spoke softly. "This is not the public place that you requested but I am afraid that it will have to do, Mlle. Bouta." With that, he released her and stepped back.

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She was exploring the passageways with her lantern when he came upon her. He was on his way to the floors above. In his pocket was the letter that he had composed the week before in response to her letter. He had intended to slip it under her door this afternoon.

Jules had been absent in the last week because of a crisis in his family. It had forced him to do his own shopping and other errands. That and other matters had caused him to delay giving her the letter.

And here she was nosing about in his tunnels. _I should not be surprised. After all, one of her newest interests is architecture._

For the next hour he followed her. She wouldn't be able to get past a certain level in the passages unless she knew the trigger mechanism. And as clever as she was, he didn't expect her to be searching for that.

When her pace changed, he knew she was done. Then she moved in the direction of the stable. She was wearing her breeches so he assumed she was going for a ride.

His sharp hearing picked up the sound from the stables before she did. She was still moving at a leisurely pace when he first noticed it. Then soon, she also heard it and sped up her pace until she was racing along the passages. Bursting into the stable, she ran to a stall as he hung back and watched.

He saw the stick rise and fall and heard its impact. Then there was the thud of a body hitting the floor. Rushing forward, he was behind her as she raised the stick a second time.

Grabbing her from behind, he pulled her up and out of the stall, and tossed her onto his shoulder. Her face thumped against his back as he bound her hands with his lasso.

At first, she was caught off guard and was motionless. As he moved toward the passages she began to struggle with considerable strength. _An instinctive reaction of a trapped animal, _he thought, as she began to frantically heave her body about. Her struggle reached a level of ferocity that made him consider cuffing her into unconsciousness in order to be able to continue to carry her.

He deposited her in a storage room that was in a quiet area where her cries wouldn't be heard. She hadn't screamed or cried out but he didn't want to take any chances.

Moving quickly, he returned to the stable where he untied the horse, and carefully helped him to the floor. The man was still unconscious, and lying face up with his eyes closed. Dragging him by his feet out of the stall he placed him in an adjacent, empty stall. As he looked down at the still form, he clenched his fists. He wanted to kill the man. What he had done to the horse was loathsome. In addition, he had forced an unanticipated encounter between himself and the woman that had disrupted his well-laid plans. For that alone, Meley deserved death.

There was no time to deal with him. He could do that later.

He returned to the horse that was breathing heavily and looked as if he might be going into shock. Tossing a blanket over the animal, he tended to its wounds.

Later as he approached the storage room, he was thinking of possible scenarios that might occur. She hadn't seen his face. When he bound her and removed her from the stable, she was in a state. It was possible that she wouldn't remember what had happened there. The wisest thing would be to unlock the storage room door so that she could leave when she was ready.

But he was concerned for her safety and the mental state she might be in. Her reaction to the whipping of the horse had been a break from the rational mind. He had to be sure that she had not hurt herself. He would have preferred to bind her feet as well as her hands before leaving her alone but he was concerned it might further her adverse reaction, and push her closer to madness.

He slowly opened the door, and looked into the room. His catlike vision enabled him to see her there. She was leaning against a wall with her face turned to the side and her head to her chest. Shutting the door, he lit the lantern.

He approached her carefully in order to better examine her. He didn't want to frighten her.

Suddenly her head came up, and she flew at him. Next thing he knew, he was on the floor with the wind partly knocked out of him. He caught his breath, and leaped towards her as she tried to open the door. She had seen him and it was no longer simple.

Quickly, he pinned her to the door. As he bent down, he resisted the urge to smile in spite of his annoyance with her for complicating things further. _Always a surprise with this one, _he thought.

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They faced each other: Jade with her back to the door, and the tall man in the black cape looking down at her a few steps away. His normally gray-green eyes were greener in the lantern light. Jade's pupils were huge from excitement.

Her calm voice broke the silence.

"Opera Ghost, I presume."

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**A/N: To my dear readers who are kind enough to review, please tell me: was it worth the wait?**

**To those of you who love horses: unfortunately, animal abuse was prevalent in that time, so I used it to further this story.**


	15. Chapter 15 Loss

**Chapter 15 Loss**

The mask made his face severe, and forbidding. Without it, he could have been a gentleman with his elegant clothes and fine appearance.

He stood only a few steps in front of her. She felt pressed in and controlled by his presence. If her hands had been free, she would have beaten him back. Instead, she waited for his next move.

"Mademoiselle, if you promise me that you won't run out of this room, I will undo your bonds," he said casually. His voice was low and calm.

With her eyes fixed upon his she thought, _So, this is my benefactor. The person who has been giving me gifts is a **madman**. _Would the ironies of her life never end?

She had no choice but to comply and hope that acting rationally would save her. Bracing herself, she turned and offered her hands to him.

Slowly, he loosened the rope. He had wrapped the lasso around her hands, and tied the extra part about her waist. Slipping his fingers between the rope and her clothes, he tugged the rope free. She flinched at his touch and reflexively moved closer to the door. There were rope burns on her wrists from her struggle that were an angry red color. As he freed her, she slipped past him while rubbing her wrists.

Coiling the rope, he then neatly tucked it into a pocket in his cloak.

She watched him quickly put it away as if he had done it a thousand times before and thought, _what kind of a man routinely carries a rope on his person? _Then she remembered Pierre's tale. The madman had hanged one of the opera house staff in the middle of a performance. That thought raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

He was quietly looking at her and waiting.

As she glanced around the room that was stacked with crates, she gathered her wits about her. She needed to clear her mind. It was spinning with questions. How had he brought her here? And what had happened before this room? _Why can't I remember?_

He had spoken of her letter. She needed to know if he was her benefactor or a thief that had stolen it.

"Monsieur, you mentioned my letter. Would you please tell me what gifts you have recently given me?"

His cape fell open and revealed a finely tailored suit as he sat upon a nearby crate. Crossing his legs in a nonchalant manner, he answered her. "Mademoiselle, I gave you a book titled 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Bronte. I also gave you a salve that you used for the roan mare, as well as a cloak. The cloak is a light brown color, and was designed for you. It is made of cashmere. I hope you are enjoying it on these chilly nights. " Then he folded his arms across his chest, and raised his eyebrow as if he dared her to make another inquiry.

Jade wondered if the masked side of his face had an eyebrow as well. She pushed the thought out of her mind. She could only handle one disturbing idea at a time.

Turning away from her, he checked the lantern which had started to flicker. When he turned back to her, his face was deadly serious.

"There is an urgent situation in the stable. The new stallion has been badly injured. He will need intensive care for the next few days if he is to survive."

Her eyes remained on his. A memory was trying to push itself into her mind but there was a shut door that it couldn't get past. At that moment she began to feel queasy.

"I will bring you medicines for his wounds, and a tea that you will give to him as often as he will take it. He has lost a large amount of blood. You will find the items in this room in three hours time. In the meantime, give him as much water as you can. I will meet you at the stable after sunset."

He rose, and walked to the door. Turning towards her, he said with a commanding tone, "I do not want my presence to be revealed. I assume you will be keeping our meeting a secret. If you wish to keep the horse alive, you will need my help." He gave her a threatening look that warned her not to disobey him. "Take the first passage to the left and then the next one to the right. Go to the end and take the right turn. It will take you to the stable." Then he was gone.

Astonished, she sat in the storeroom for the next few minutes trying to comprehend what had just happened.

She had just had an exchange with the man who called himself the Opera Ghost. He was still in the opera house, and he had taken an interest in her. _Why me? _

There was no time to think about it. If he was correct, she needed to get to the stable fast.

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She was soon back at the stable. It was quiet and without human activity. Where was Rascon?

Approaching the stallion's stall, she couldn't see him. His stall appeared to be empty. Then she opened the stall door.

The horse was lying on his right side with a blanket covering him. The bedding around him was heavily stained with the dingy brown color of dried blood. He was breathing softly and unaware of her presence. As she slowly approached him, her stomach began to twist and knot. She removed his blanket and stared down at the many cuts and gashes on his body—his coat glistening with sweat. Suddenly her stomach heaved, and she quickly turned away to retch on the nearby bedding.

Finishing, she turned back to him. After studying the cross work pattern of wounds from the whip, she touched his side. At last, after all the time that she had spent earning his trust, she could finally touch him! Her eyes blurred as the tears spilled out. Blinded, she no longer saw him, but felt his warmth beneath her hand as she struggled to hold back the sobs.

A little later, while fetching a bucket of fresh water, she heard a moan from a nearby empty stall.

The man was lying on the bare floor with his shirt caked with dried blood. He was slowly returning to consciousness. It was Meley, the music director.

Jade stared at him. At first she didn't understand why he was there in that state. And then it came to her, and her mouth formed a hard line.

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Rascon was returning to work after a long lunch. It was close to one o'clock in the afternoon. His boy had been running a mild fever the last couple of days, and he had gone home to check on him. He'd had a pleasant meal with his wife and daughter. He liked his wife's cooking more than the opera café food, so he was in a good mood when he entered the stable.

Hearing a low moan, he pivoted around, and searched for the sound. When he found Meley in the stall, he cursed. Then he examined him. His left arm was torn from a bite that had bled badly. It looked like a horse had gotten him. The back of his head was tacky with dried blood. Rascon stood up and looked down the wide hall of the stable as if the answer was lurking near by. _How the hell did he get into this stall? _

There was only one horse in the stable that would have given Meley that bite.

He found Jade crouched next to the stallion as she spooned liquid down his throat. The trail of blood and the fallen whip told most of the tale. _That fool Meley!_ Except for the part where Meley magically ended up in the empty stall. There were marks of blood on the stable floor between the stallion's stall and the other one. It looked like he had been dragged there. Rascon doubted that it was the stallion that had dealt the blow to his head. The rope marks on the horse's neck showed that it had been restrained. Somebody else was involved in all this.

He hated mysteries. He liked things cut and dried. Unsolved problems made his head ache.

"What is going on here?" he asked as he bent over the horse, and looked at its wounds.

Jade looked up at him briefly, and then continued to spoon the water into the stallion's mouth. "He was beaten by his owner. I found him like this a short time ago."

Glancing at her hands, he noticed the rope burns about her wrists. Then he looked sharply at her face. There were no other signs of trauma about her. "Did you see it happen?" he quietly asked her.

She turned to him and looked at him for a moment, and then turned away. There was confusion in her eyes.

A weak voice calling for help came from the other stall. Rascon turned on his heel, and went to assist the man.

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Jade walked back from the storeroom carrying the medicine that the man had promised her.

For the first time in her life, she felt out of control. Part of her was missing, lost in the time before the storeroom and the appearance of the stranger. Instead of her normal self confidence, there was uneasiness and a feeling of weakness. She hated it. She wanted to go back to the stable, get on a horse, and ride anywhere that took her away from this place and this sense of doubt.

It didn't make sense. Why did he bring her to that room bound and then return to free her and tell her that she was needed in the stable? Had seeing her conscious and aware stopped his plan? Was there even a plan?

She guessed that he hadn't wanted the encounter either. As casual as he had appeared, there was a hint of uneasiness while he silently watched her, as if he were waiting for a cue. He was being deliberate and careful. He didn't act like a madman.

She inwardly snorted at that. _Exactly how many madmen have you known in your lifetime? Don't be a fool. He killed and kidnapped, and set the opera house on fire._

_I've been called mad also. What did they know?_ she thought.

Mad or not, he had known enough to help the roan mare. For the sake of the stallion, she would trust him.

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Jade sat on a low wooden bench as she spoon-fed the tea into the stallion. The lantern that hung from the wall illuminated the stretched out horse and the still figure that bent over him.

Even in his ragged state, the stallion was beautiful. His head had been unmarred by the whip. In profile, he showed all the beauty of his breed: the delicate bone structure, the small head, and the large velvety nostrils that indicated his stamina. As Jade fed him the medicine her heart was wrenched by his quiet dignity as he lay there helpless. He had been beaten down by a cruel rule of life: humans had the right to kill and maim animals by virtue of owning them. The word _slavery_ crossed her mind. Life was innately unjust and cruel.

Her own life had had an abundance of harshness—her mother's abandonment of her, the circumstances that had forced her from her home, Jean-Luc, and her need to isolate herself from people in order to protect her self. But in spite of all that, she had always been able to make intelligent decisions that gave her a measure of freedom and hope. She had always felt that she was in control.

Until now.

The sun had set an hour or so before. Rascon had gone home for his supper but would be back in several hours. He had spoken with DuChant who had agreed to allow Jade to stay in the stable for the next few days and care for the stallion.

As she dipped the spoon into the pot of liquid, her eye caught a movement to her right. He was suddenly there, silently crouched beside her. Inwardly she started but managed to keep her calm demeanor.

He had a salve pot in his hand, and was dabbing the medicine on the stallion's wounds. First he carefully wiped each wound clean of the previous salve and then he added the second one. He was next to her, scarcely a couple feet away. She could see the unmasked side of his face in profile. The lantern cast a yellow orange glow across his countenance. His expression was stern and focused, and he was ignoring her. His long legs in their black pants were bent under him, and his face was smooth, very masculine, and oddly youthful.

Jade moved a little further down the bench away from the man, and then returned to her task.

Shortly, she looked back at him, and watched his hands as he spread the salve. He had large hands with long fingers that were smooth and pale. They looked strong. He was being extremely gentle as he handled the wounds.

He finished, stood up, and turned to her. She rose and faced him.

"He has a good chance to survive. Give him the tea every two hours and use this to heal his wounds." He reached out and offered her the salve. There was an inscrutable expression on his face.

Jade stepped close enough to take the medicine from him. As she reached out for the salve, his left hand moved forward and he lightly rested his index finger on the rope burns of her wrist. She glanced at her wrist, and then looked up at him. He was looking down at her, staring intently into her eyes. He held her gaze for a long moment and then she felt something at her wrist. Looking down, she saw his fingers smoothly rubbing the salve over the rope burns with the same gentleness that he had applied to the stallion. He finished with one wrist, and then reached out for her other hand. She gave it to him without a thought.

When he had finished, she stared down at her wrist for a moment, and then looked back up into his eyes. He was watching her. She could almost hear his thoughts. She slowly blinked twice, and the spell was broken.

She backed away from him toward the stall door. Then she turned, and ran out of the stable.

Standing outside of the stable entrance, she caught her breath and then looked back. She half expected to see him behind her with the rope in his hands. But there was nothing there. Breathing deeply, she walked down the side street towards the main road. The stallion would be fine without her for the next couple of hours.

She walked towards the river. The night air hit her face, and wiped the sweat off her brow. Her tension gradually decreased as her shoulders began to relax.

For the next hour, she sat on a bench near the river, and mindlessly watched the water flow by. She wished that she could be something other than an emotionally stunted woman with strange and confusing feelings. She had to be stronger than that if she were to deal with a madman who was haunting her. _Or maybe, he isn't mad at all._

She wasn't sure which was worse.

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Erik stepped out of the stall and watched Jade run away from him. He saw her pause by the entrance and then disappear.He covered the horse with the blanket, and left the stable.

It had been an eventful day. It was their first meeting, and in spite of the circumstances, it had gone relatively well. She had trusted him enough to return to the storeroom and get the medicine. And in the stable, she had remained near him as he worked on the horse. He had seen her watching him as he tended the stallion. He had enjoyed being near to her.

It was still early, so he decided to go for a stroll. Walking along the bridle path, he moved past the cedars and beyond. There would be no moon tonight so he was safe.

The rope burns on her wrists had bothered him. He could have suggested that she use the salve on herself, but it was more interesting for him to do it for her. He had wondered how close he could get to her, what she would allow. Her weakened state from the events of the day had made her vulnerable, and had damaged her normal barriers. He saw that when he looked into her eyes, and decided to use it to his advantage. She had let him touch her.

He smiled at that, and continued to silently stride down the path. The night air felt good.

He had overheard her conversation with Rascon. She would be spending the next two nights in the stable sleeping on a makeshift bed. There was a lovely throw in the props department that would do nicely for her new bed. He would retrieve it before going back to his home.

_All in all, it has been a very interesting day, _he thought with satisfaction.


	16. Chapter 16 Dreams

**A/N: Just a historic note: this story is set in 1874. The opera AIDA by Giuseppe Verdi did not actually come to Paris until April 1876.**

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** Chapter 16 Dreams**

The next day, the opera house was unusually quiet. The orchestra hadn't set up, the principals had come and gone for the day, and many of the chorus members were sitting in the opera café gossiping instead of gathering on the stage. The normal high-speed schedule that the music director had bound them to had been cut short. There was an unnatural holiday at the Opera Populaire.

Some of the departments were still working full time in anticipation of the upcoming season. Manette was in the backstage area where she was speaking with her husband who worked in set design. The scenery for Act 1 was nearly finished, but already some questions had arisen that the music director would have to answer.

_What a mess, _thought Manette, as she took Gillian's hand and left the area.

Gillian was straining to see what was inside the many open doors that they passed. Her neck twisted and turned as she walked beside her teacher. Manette looked down at the shock of hair that flew up from the child's head. It was always unruly and gave her a wild appearance. She thought of how curious the little girl was, and how much there was here to feed the imagination of a child. _Growing up in a grand opera house in Paris would be extraordinary,_ she mused.

They continued on to the management offices where Manette hoped to meet with Jade.

They had missed her last night when she had not come to supper. Jade had been regularly dining with Manette, her husband and Gillian since she had lost her private table over a week ago. Last night, the child had restlessly looked for her friend throughout the meal. When they had finished, she asked Manette if they could go to Jade's room and visit with her. Unfortunately for the child, Jade wasn't there either.

_She's gotten quite attached to the woman, _thought Manette. _They're almost inseparable. It is a good thing that Jade is committed to her job here. The child would be heartbroken if she were to leave._

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"Jade's not here today. Nor will she be for several days," snapped Mme. Truffaut in answer to Manette's inquiry. "M. DuChant has ordered her to work in the stable." She abruptly turned back to her ledger after giving Manette a look of disgust.

The tall, stiff figured woman was in a temper. She was doing her work and Jade's and to make it worse, the workload had tripled since Jade had started working in the office. Jade's competent assistance had allowed Mme. Truffaut to delay hiring another assistant.

As much as she would have preferred to finish with the foul tempered Mme. Truffaut, Manette dared to ask another question.

"Madame, why is she in the stable?"

Mme. Truffaut answered icily. "Yesterday, M. Meley nearly killed a horse, and today she's nursing it back to health." M. Truffaut had inside links with many of the gossip mills in the opera house so she kept abreast of happenings. The colorful story about yesterday's event at the stable had passed quickly among the staff and performers. Meley was laid up with his injuries and the Opera Populaire was adrift without a music director. Tomorrow DuChant would have a meeting with the owners concerning the matter.

Manette took Gillian to the café and left her with her assistant who was minding the other children. She ordered two meals to take with her. While waiting, she overheard the conversation at an adjacent table.

"You really think Mme. Deschamps will take over for Meley?" asked a tall robust man of the chorus.

"She'd love to do it. You know her. She thinks she can do it all…compose, direct, conduct, etc.," said the bearded man. "If she thought she could get away with it, she'd play the part of Aida as well. She's completely full of herself."

The tall man shook his head in disbelief. "But,Verdi! He's supposed to come next week to consult on the details of the production. He won't deal with a woman, will he? He'll probably take one look at her and think it's an insult, and then leave. He has a temper."

"Then I guess we'll have to make do without his tinkering. However, with Mme. Deschamps in charge, we'll probably need his help. Speaking of tempers, who do you think got to Meley?" asked the bearded man. "Do you think the Opera Ghost is back?"

The other man chuckled. "Meley has plenty of enemies, but I doubt that the Opera Ghost is one of them."

Manette gathered up the food and left. _There is too much idle talk today,_ she thought. _Performers! They love drama. _She hoped that the current chaos wouldn't last long.

She hurried to the stable, and wrapped her shawl tightly about her round shoulders as the breeze lifted her hair. The October air was brisk and the nights were getting colder. She had needed an extra blanket last night. It was her first trip to the stable, and she wrinkled her nose when she got a whiff of the unfamiliar smell of manure and urine.

Walking along the wide hall that divided the stalls, she made a brief search, and called out her friend's name. There was a sound in one of the stalls that was ahead of her on the right. Putting the food on a crate, she poked her nose over the stall door, and saw Jade's back. The woman was looking down at something and wearing her breeches.

Jade turned when she heard the rustling of Manette's skirts.

Her eyes had dark circles under them and she looked weary. She had been up most of the night with the stallion. Afraid to miss a dose of his medicine, she had catnapped and awakened every hour to check on him. In between, she had lain on her makeshift bed in an empty stall, the same stall that Meley had been found in.

"Jade, I brought you your lunch."

Manette quickly turned away, and avoided looking at the spot that Jade had been staring at. She didn't want to see the broken horse. The thought of the brutality and the pain made her queasy. The fact that it had happened here made this place ugly and disturbing.

Lunch passed without conversation as Jade looked out the stable entrance, and Manette occasionally glanced into the building's dark interior. _What does she see in this place? _Manette wondered.

They finished their meal and Jade went back to the stall while Manette watched her walk away. In spite of the fatigue she moved with her typical quiet, light step. _So smooth, _thought Manette: _a natural dancer. _She had been thinking lately of arranging for Gillian to spend more of her evenings with Jade. If the child was destined to live at least part of her life as a dancer, what better teacher to have than a woman whose act of walking was grace itself? The child couldn't help but learn something from her.

Later that night, Manette surveyed her sleeping charges. The soft sound of twenty some children's breathing as they slept was thin and sweet. All was well. She noticed the thatch of pale hair half buried under a blanket. It was getting chillier in the dormitory. She really needed to get more blankets. She'd look into it tomorrow.

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That night, Jade finished the tea that the man had given her for the horse. She carried the empty container to the stall where her bed was. Then she stretched out on the bed, and drifted off to sleep.

In her dream, there was something slick on the floor. Her legs nearly gave out but she managed to hold onto something and keep her footing. The space around her was expanding and contracting. Looking down, she saw blood on her dress. She was covered in blood. Then she felt something grip her waist and relentlessly tug at her, dragging her across the floor. She beat at it with her hands as it pulled her away…

Her eyes opened, and she was staring at the ceiling rafters. Her muscles were tense and her jaw clenched. She was sweating and had soaked her tunic.

She slowly got up, and lit the lantern next to her bed. Then she crossed the hall and checked on the stallion. His breathing was easy and regular. The salve was doing its magic and healing his wounds. It also seemed to be a pain killer, or maybe it was the tea she had been giving him, because he had been blessedly free of discomfort since yesterday. She looked around the stall. If the horse needed more of the tea, she knew that it would appear. _He_ would come and leave her what she needed.

Thinking of him, she looked towards her bed. Last night, when she had returned from the river, there had been a colorful throw placed at the foot of her bed. It had exotic figures on it and was made of thick wool. She had needed it last night since it had gotten very chilly in the stable. Before retiring for the night, she had closed the doors and locked them as per Rascon's instructions. But she suspected that if the man in the mask wanted to enter, the locked doors wouldn't keep him out.

Rubbing her head, she felt the dirt in her hair. She hadn't bathed since Friday and she was beginning to smell. It was too late to return to her room and order a bath. Besides, she didn't dare leave the stallion on the chance that he might take a turn for the worse.

She'd thought about the strange man off and on throughout the day. His fine clothes, the way he stood above her alert and ready to move in a second. He was like a large bird of prey watching her. When he touched her last night…_damn him! Why did I let him touch me like that?_ _You don't walk up to a predator and give him your hand. Fool!_

He had taken advantage of her. She was already weak and confused, and she had let him get close enough to weaken her further.

Crawling under the blankets she turned on her side and saw the bottle that had held the medicinal tea. She picked it up and examined it while she lay comfortably in her bed. It was blown glass with unusual etchings. Strange and interesting designs covered its surface. She traced the designs with her fingers and wondered where it had been made.

She placed it carefully on the floor so as not to damage it. It was valuable, and he had used it to carry medicine for a suffering animal. Reaching out, she lightly touched it, and thought of how he had gently touched the horse while applying the salve.

He was very intelligent. The gifts, the way he had dealt with her at their meeting in the storage room, the way he had tricked her into letting him touch her had proven that. A bright, dangerous predator was pursuing her.

Maybe she wasn't the only one. Maybe, he was really after someone else and she just happened to be someone who was easy to get to for his entertainment—a distraction from his real interest. He had once been in love with a diva. He had kidnapped her, killed for her, and lost her.

Rolling onto her back, she pondered that last thought. She understood that kind of love. She had had it once. It was a love where you would do anything to bring him back. It was a love that could drive you mad.

She shut her eyes. The strange man's plight didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was to survive. First, she would get some sleep. Then, she would continue to care for the stallion and hope that he recovered. After that, she would think about what to do next. No decisions until then.

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After she fell asleep, Erik entered the stable. He carefully examined the stallion's wounds as he spoke to him in a gentle, low voice. They were healing well. The tissue was sealed and looked healthy, and soon there would no longer be a danger of infection.

He walked to the other stall and looked in on her. She was breathing deeply, and was probably exhausted. He had heard her cry out from the nightmare a short while ago. Now she was lying there peacefully, with her hair tousled and badly needing a combing. Her thick eyelashes rested on her cheeks and she held the blankets close to her, as a child would. Noticing that innocent gesture, he was tempted to sit on the side of her bed and run his hand across her hair and lightly smooth it back into place.

He walked to her bed and reached down and picked up the empty bottle. Then he turned away from her and left the stable.

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Two days later, Jade was grooming the roan mare when she heard the stallion get up. There was a banging of his hooves against the floor. She ran to his stall and saw him standing and looking about. Quietly, she opened the stall door and entered. Lifting up a bucket of water that was in the corner, she took several steps and placed it near him.

The horse watched her approach, and showed no signs of anger or fear.

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Once the stallion was back on his feet, Rascon told Jade that he'd take care of the horse, and that she should spend the rest of the day in the opera house where it was warmer.

She had developed a mild cough. She rarely got sick and therefore she thought nothing of it.

Lying in the hot tub of water, she trailed her fingers across the soapsuds. She was considering whether to go down to the management offices and help Mme. Truffaut or if she should rest. She was sure that the longer she waited, the harder it would be to deal with the woman. As tired as she felt, it would probably be better to work part of the day.

Later that day, Jade stood in the delivery door, and supervised the unloading of some goods. The rain had started an hour before. Giant raindrops doused her head and splashed her cloak as she stood in the doorway. When she finished, her cloak hung about her soaking wet. Occasionally, a hollow sounding cough rang from her chest.

That night she skipped supper to go to bed early. Her cough had gotten worse and she didn't want to sit with the others. When Manette came to her door, Jade told her that she was simply tired and needed to sleep.

She awoke several times with a bout of intense coughing. By the morning, she was running a fever.

Most of the day was spent doing deliveries. Being outside cooled her forehead and made it easier to think, as well as temporarily easing the cough. By evening her chest began to feel heavy and it ached as she breathed. She had no appetite so she skipped supper and went to bed early.

Jade didn't get up on Friday morning. By then, her fever was high and her breathing was labored. Her head ached terribly. She drifted in and out of sleep, and was unaware of the passing of time.

She tossed and turned and feverishly dreamed of horses, blood, and cool countryside streams. She was swimming in a lake near her home. The water buoyed her up with its liquid heaviness as she stretched herself across its surface. Jean-Luc was there, laughing at her antics and occasionally splashing water into her face. She reached out to him and touched his mouth, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Then he picked her up and carried her to the shore. She pressed her face against his chest and smelled his good clean smell. She was safe and nothing could touch her. He had come back to her.


	17. Chapter 17 Touch

**Chapter 17 Touch**

The rain beat heavily on the roof of the carriage as it floundered in the flooded street. The well-heeled pedestrians had escaped the storm, and were hovering in nearby shops. Their trapped silhouettes crowded the shop windows. It had been an unusually wet season, and Paris was taking on the appearance of a half drowned rat.

Erik was on his way to a meeting with Jules over business matters, and was traveling by carriage through the storm. The water covered the horse's fetlocks as it dragged its load through the torrent. At one point the horse stumbled and lurched forward causing the carriage to roughly whip sideways and toss Erik from his seat.

He regained his seat and settled back into a comfortable position with his long legs bent and his dark suit elegantly draped across them. His sudden tumble reminded him of what he had seen a couple of hours before: the efforts of the wounded stallion as it struggled to stand.

Once the stallion had gotten to his feet, Rascon insisted that Jade go back into the opera house where it was warmer. Erik had watched her as she packed up her things, including the colorful throw, and left the stable.

It had impressed him how diligently and carefully she had nursed the stallion. Her devotion had been absolute. _How fortunate he is to have such a friend, _he mused.

During her stay in the stable, Erk had stayed close and kept an eye on her. He was pleased to see that she had distanced herself from the others, and had not revealed their secret. She appeared to be trustworthy.

Their next encounter would be soon. He had been thinking of it these last few days and considering the best way to approach her. What new surprise might she have in store for him? Her unpredictability was fascinating.

As the carriage continued onwards, he gazed at the building facades that were clouded by the torrent, and thought of his time with Christine. Lately, he had been allowing memories of her to resurface. Somehow, in the last month, the pain he felt when thinking of her had become bearable.

It was pointless to compare any woman to her. No one could approach her beauty or grace.

And yet, on one point there was a noteworthy difference between Christine and the other woman. Christine wasn't full of surprises.

He turned from the window and rested his head against the seat. There was another matter that required his attention.

Yesterday, he had secretly attended the meeting between DuChant and the Deschamps concerning the hiring of a new music director.

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DuChant stared at Mme. Deschamps and tried to hide his astonishment. _She wants to take over the directorship in the middle of the production! _He masked his doubts as he looked down at the wine glass in his hand.

Mme. Descamps looked at DuChant coolly and with an aristocratic air. Her beautifully coiffed hair piled upon her head added to her unusually tall stature, and increased the impact of her presence. She held her head at the precise angle that drew the greatest looks of appreciation from her many admirers. Her confidence was that of a performing artist that commands the vast attention of a grand opera house.

As her rich voice resonated in the room, her eyes fixed upon DuChant with a steely firmness.

"M. DuChant, you may continue to search for a new director, but keep in mind that M. Meley is our first choice. It is our hope that he will soon be returning to the Opera Populaire. In the meantime, I will temporarily fill his position. I would like you to gather the cast here tomorrow where I will meet with them."

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_An amateur intends to direct the Parisian premiere of Aida, _thought Erik as the carriage stopped. If she was willing to accept his guidance, he might allow it. If not, there were various tricks that he could perform that would make her regret her decision.

He covered his face with the hood of his cloak, and ducked under the carriage frame as he stepped into the diminishing rain. He would probably be at the office for at least several hours with Jules. Besides the business at hand, there were two tasks that he needed Jules to do, one of which needed immediate attention.

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The next day, Erik sat in box five and watched the activity below. Mme. Deschamps was on stage directing two of the performers. He had noticed earlier that the proximity of the principals to each other in that scene had lacked a certain visual tension, and Mme. Deschamps had apparently felt the same. She was instructing them where to stand as they prepared to rehearse the scene.

Last night, after returning from his meeting with Jules, he had written a letter to Mme. Deschamps and placed it in her office. In the letter, he had pointed out various weaknesses in the production. Today she was following many of his suggestions and had corrected a number of the problems. In addition, she was dealing with other annoying points that he had yet to mention to her. It was evident that as a new music director, she was a budding young talent. Perhaps, with additional guidance, the first opera of the season would be a success.

Jules had left him a note this morning reporting that Meley was not doing as well as his employers hoped. His memory was poor, and he had debilitating headaches. The doctor could not say when he would be ready to return to work.

He left box five and traveled to the back passages in the staff quarters. It was time to see how the young woman was faring. He hadn't seen her since the stable and he wanted to evaluate her state of mind. Was there a chance that she would be talking with her suitor about their secret? Observing her might give him a clue.

Knowing that she often returned to her room before going to supper, he waited by the mirror.

The door opened and she entered. She lit the gaslight, and hung her cloak in the wardrobe. Then she approached the mirror, and lit several candles near it. When she looked up, he saw her face clearly for the first time. It had a drawn appearance and the dark circles under her eyes had become nearly black.

As she sat at the table, she began to cough until she was bent over from the effort. When she had finished, she wearily sat back in the chair and gazed emptily into the mirror. Periodically she frowned from the pain of taking a breath.

Accustomed to her normally robust health, Erik found her recent decline alarming. She looked very weak, and he didn't like the sound of the cough. It indicated a potentially severe ailment.

He turned away, and quickly went to his home.

It wasn't until hours later that he had finished his preparations and could return.

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Erik stood outside her room in the hidden passageway and listened. Through the mirror, he faintly heard her rough and labored breathing. She had been tossing and turning since he had arrived. He waited a little longer to determine if she was conscious of her surroundings or lost in a feverish state.

Touching the side of the mirror, he quietly slid it open.

Silently, he entered the dark room. She was lying on her back with her eyes closed, unaware of his presence. After a moment, he lit a candle.

He stood above her and assessed her condition. She had kicked off her covers and was lying in her thin chemise oblivious to the chill of the room. She had lost weight since Sunday, and her face was flushed. Touching her forehead, he noted its heat and dryness.

Lying there, she looked fragile and helpless. Gone was the high carriage of her head, her aloofness, and the barriers that she placed between herself and others.

He walked back to the mirror, carried in the supplies, and shut the mirror behind him.

Returning to her bed, he bent down and rolled the chemise up and over her head.

She lay naked before him.

He had come to help her, but for a few moments, all he could do was stare at her. His eyes eagerly raked her body. Her breasts were lovely and delicate. Her slender waist accentuated the curve of her hips and gave her a secret sensuality that she had hidden with her concealing and careless manner of dress. Her skin was smooth and flushed from the fever.

This was the closest he had gotten to her, to any woman who was naked. The intimacy of seeing her utterly exposed, aroused him.

He swallowed hard, and focused on his task. Draping a blanket across her, he left the part exposed that would be bathed. Then for the next couple of hours, he sponged her with water.

Occasionally she would partially awaken, and look at him with unseeing eyes. He would then coax medicine into her. At such times, he sat on her bed and held her blanket wrapped body in his arms as he tipped the flask to her lips. Once, she clung to him and pressed her face into his chest. He automatically pressed her to himself, and held her tighter. When her grip weakened, he held her closely a few moments longer before releasing her, and laying her back in her bed.

At times she spoke a name: Jean-Luc. She said no other. It piqued his curiosity. A brother? A lover?

In a couple of hours her fever broke, and she began to sweat. Carefully, he dressed her with the chemise that he had found her in and gave her a dose of medicine. Then he gathered up his things, and placed them in the passageway. Closing the mirror, he pulled up the chair next to her bed, and waited for her to awake.

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Jade's eyes opened to a blur. After some effort she managed to focus enough to see a black trouser leg a foot from her face.

Blinking several times, she looked again. It was still there. _Where am I?_ she thought.

Her head and neck felt heavy. It took considerable effort to look upward to see the face that belonged to the leg.

He was silently staring at her. His eyes looked soft, softer than she had remembered them. His mouth was soft too. She stared back at him with half closed eyes that were weighed down from weakness. Then she closed them tightly and reopened them. He was still there.

Looking about, she realized that she was in her room.

_**He's** in my room!_

She looked back in his direction but he was gone. Then a moment later, he was back with something in his hand. He lifted up her upper body, and she felt something pressed to her lips. She tried to turn away from it but he held her firmly, and growled at her, "Stop struggling and take your medicine." She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Then he poured a strong tasting liquid into her. A moment later her head was being lowered back onto the bed.

_This has to be a dream, _she thought as she weakly tried to turn onto her side.

Strong hands were on her and gently turned her. Again, she looked up and he was there. His eyes had lost the gentleness and had a cool, distant quality.

"Mademoiselle, you are recovering from a bout of pneumonia, and you will need to rest and take medicine for the next week. I will leave a flask of it on your table with instructions. You have a grave condition and if you value your life, you will follow my instructions, and avoid working for the next week or possibly more."

He sounded like a stern parent who was lecturing a wayward child that needed punishment. There was no doubting his seriousness. She briefly wondered what he would do to her if she disobeyed him.

Bending over her, he turned her onto her back. As he drew back, she weakly laid her hand on his arm. He immediately looked down at her hand with an inscrutable look on his face.

"Thank you," Jade said in a weak voice. She was too tired to have a conversation with him, so her question was short and to the point. "What is your name?"

He was looking down at her with the stern look of someone who refuses to be bothered with tiresome details. But his eyes changed a little. Something unknown flickered in them.

"My name is Erik."

He continued to stare down at her as if waiting for a response.

"Erik, you may call me Jade," she answered. And then, exhausted by the effort of speaking, she shut her eyes.

When she opened them a minute later, he was gone.

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Before going back to his home, Erik visited the ballet classrooms where Manette was teaching. There he dropped a note from the rafters that landed near her personal effects. He knew that once the woman read it, she would immediately go to her friend. He had watched her bring meals to Jade in the stable and noticed her strong interest in the woman's well being.

Later in his home, he moved about restlessly as he took stock of his surroundings. He had very comfortable rooms with tasteful furnishings. The only problem at the moment was the placement of the organ. It was against a wall, and he wouldn't be able to see her dance when he played for her. Something needed to be done, because he needed to be able to see her.

_Perhaps the installation of mirrors will suffice, _he reflected.

Having resolved the problem, he sat at his worktable and began to sketch her. She would have blushed if she had seen herself naked in his drawing, but he couldn't help himself. He had to have physical evidence of that moment. His charcoal outlined her curves and he used a rosy pigment to highlight her flushed skin. The final drawing was a subtle mix of innocence and sensuality.

He stared at it for a few minutes and began to feel aroused again. Then he covered it with paper to protect it, and locked it in a drawer.

He prepared a bath, which he lingered in to soak away the cold. The warmth seeped into his muscles, and he sighed with pleasure. As he lounged, Jade's image rose up before him, and he remembered the look in her eyes when she had asked his name. As weak as she had been, her eyes had still pierced him.

At that moment, he had felt caught and incapable of saying no.


	18. Chapter 18 Visitors

**Chapter 18 Visitors**

On Friday morning, Jade lay in her bed exhausted. She felt as if she could sleep for days. She was still coughing but no longer had a fever, or chest pain.

Maybe he was right, and it would be best not to work for a while. Working had made her sick.

Turning her face to the door, she thought of the man who had helped her. When she had first peered up at him, the look on his face had surprised her. There had been gentleness and a tender quality in his eyes, as well as expectation.

Shaking herself out of her languid reverie, she thought, _he was in my room How did he get in?_ _Was the door unlocked? _Not likely. She was always careful to lock it.

_Well, obviously locked doors don't stop him when he wants in. He's a tricky fellow,_ a_nd determined._

He must have been watching her in the last couple of days and seen her coughing. But he had waited until she had been very sick before entering her room.

She knew she should feel disturbed by the invasion, but oddly, she didn't. Instead, she felt grateful. He had helped her, and may have even saved her life.

With each encounter, she was becoming more indebted to him. It was quite unsettling.

Staring at her wardrobe, she wondered how long it would take to get to it. She was weak; too weak for even that simple task.

Slowly, Jade raised herself onto her elbows and with great effort, swung her legs over the side of the bed.

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That morning at the end of ballet class, Manette saw the letter that was near her personal effects. It was addressed: **Ballet Mistress**.

Opening it, she read:

**Madame,**

**Your friend from the stable is quite ill and needs your assistance.**

After staring at the letter with a blank expression, she turned to her assistant, and asked her to take the children to lunch. She would join them later.

Her concerns of the last few days had come to pass— her friend was finally ill. After working in the rain, and skipping meals, Jade had begun to look terrible. Manette had wanted to talk with someone who could force her to slow down but she hadn't known who to go to. Jean had said that the man who visited Jade on the weekends was a friend of the manager, and she had wondered if talking with him might help.

Arriving breathless at Jade's door, she knocked and then heard a weak voice call "enter".

Jade was sitting on the edge of her bed. Her face was pale, and the circles under her eyes looked like they'd been smudged on with eye paint. She was slumped forward with her head hanging down.

Alarmed by her appearance, Manette rushed to her side, and put a hand on her shoulder. "What happened to you, Jade?" she asked with dismay.

Slowly, Jade looked up at Manette. "Apparently, I have just suffered from a bout of pneumonia and am now recovering." Then she shrugged and looked away.

Manette helped her friend up, and went to the wardrobe. As she sorted through the garments, she noticed the brown cashmere cloak. Lightly, she brushed her hand against it and admired its softness. _Beautiful_, she thought. _I've never seen her wear this._

When she finished helping Jade dress, she walked to the opera café. She was thinking about the mysterious note. Who had left it, and how had they gotten past her without her noticing?

Carrying two lunches back to the room, Manette approached the door, and heard a man's voice within. After a brief knock, she entered.

Inside, M. DuChant was standing next to Jade who was seated at the table. While gripping a piece of paper, he was looking down at Jade with a puzzled and angry expression. She was silently staring at the floor.

"Mme. DuBois, do you know what's going on here?" he asked impatiently as he pointed the paper at Jade.

Manette answered sharply as she stepped forward. "Monsieur, Jade has been quite ill, and I have brought her lunch." _He has no business being here, and upsetting her when she's in this condition, _she thought as she abruptly set the food on the table.

DuChant noticed her icy stare, and immediately calmed down. Then he turned to Jade who was still looking at the floor.

"Mademoiselle, you are obviously in need of rest. You will not be expected to return to work until you have fully recovered. I will see that your meals are sent to your room for the next few days until you are ready to return to the café. Good day."

Giving them both a nod, he left.

Manette wanted to know what had happened between Jade and DuChant but knew better than to ask. Jade had that withdrawn look that she'd get whenever she wanted to be left alone. As they ate their meals in silence, Manette watched her out of the corner of her eye.

Eager to know the identity of Jade's secret benefactor, Manette decided that in the future, she would be keeping closer tabs on her friend.

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Later that afternoon, when Pierre arrived at his room, he found a letter tacked to his door.

**Pierre, **

**Please come immediately to my office as soon as you get this.**

**Jacque DuChant**

DuChant was sitting at his desk when Pierre entered. After offering Pierre a chair, he pushed a piece of paper across the desk. "Read that." he said, and waited.

Pierre read the letter, which was written in bold handwriting.

**M. DuChant,**

**It has come to my attention that you have been overworking one of your employees, a Mlle. Jade Bouta. Because of your neglect, she has become very ill. Fortunately, she will recover completely if she is given the opportunity to rest from her current duties. **

**Her illness is severe and she will need a one to two week holiday from work if she is to recover.**

**I expect you to respect my wishes. If I see her return to work before she is well, I will hold you personally responsible. **

**You do not wish to anger me, Monsieur. The consequences to your health would be dire.**

The note was unsigned.

Pierre looked across at Duchant, who was frowning.

"What does this mean? What has happened to her?" Pierre asked as he looked intensely at DuChant.

DuChant leaned back in his chair and replied. "I have recently been to her room. She looks weak but she is sitting up at her table. I think with some rest she will be fine. I had no idea that she was ill until I came into my office, and found this note on my desk. It was slipped under the door after I left yesterday."

Now it was DuChant's turn to look intently at his friend. He resented the threat in the letter. "Pierre, who do you think wrote this?"

With a puzzled look, Pierre glanced at the letter. "I have no idea."

Suddenly standing up, he walked to the door. "I'm sorry Jacque, but I need to see her now."

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Standing outside of Jade's room, Pierre waited a moment before he knocked. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm down. If she was as sick as he feared, he didn't want to storm in and cause her more distress. The thought of her being seriously ill was deeply upsetting.

On entering, he saw Jade lying in bed propped up with pillows that Manette had brought. Her eyes were half closed as she looked up at him.

Carrying the chair over to her bed, he sat beside her, and studied her face. She looked dreadful. On the previous week she'd been fine. The last time he'd seen her had been at a café on Saturday where they had spent the hour talking. She had asked him about the madman who had called himself the Opera Ghost.

Pierre was usually not at a loss for words, but seeing her in that fragile state left him speechless. _Something's different about her, _he mulled It was more than the illness. There was a strange look in her eyes. _What has happened to her?_

For the next fifteen minutes, they sat silently together, and listened to the clock ticking. After awhile, he sensed an emptiness emanating from her. He felt it in his body as a hollow sensation beneath his heart.

She looked sad and weary, and he wanted to do something to help. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he took out the leather pouch that held the charm that she had given him. Removing the tiny silver horse from the pouch's folds, he took Jade's hand and placed it on her palm. Her fingers closed gently over it, as she looked into his eyes. Her eyes became peaceful, and a small joy radiated from her. The empty feeling in Pierre's chest vanished, and was replaced by a rush of warmth.

Taking her other hand, he held it between his, and hummed a song. Smiling gently, she settled back into her pillows, and shut her eyes.

Later, when Manette brought up supper, she found them together with Pierre holding Jade's hand as she slept.

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A single candle burned in Jade's bedroom as she prepared for bed. It had been an extraordinarily long day. There had been nothing to do except eat, and visit with people and sleep. And now it was time to sleep again. She felt restless and bored, and wished she had a book to read to pass the time. Tomorrow would be more or less the same kind of day, with the possible exception of not having to deal with DuChant.

DuChant had stood over her, and almost demanded to know who had written that letter to him. She had wondered if she was risking her job when she told him that she didn't know who had taken an interest in her. She was a poor liar, and DuChant had figured out that she was stalling. If Manette hadn't come in when she did…

Sighing deeply, she thought about how she would now have to make up a plausible story about a love interest, an over protective suitor.

She had hid her astonishment when DuChant had shown her Erik's letter. It was one thing for him to steal into her room and help her. It was another to threaten her employer! He had gone too far. She needed to find a way to stop him.

_As if I have any control over what he does!_ she thought with frustration.

Slowly she undressed, and changed into her bedclothes. Placing a robe over her chemise, she tightly wrapped it around herself. She was thinking ahead. If he were to pay her another visit when she was sleeping, she needed to be wearing more than a flimsy undergarment.

She blushed when she thought of him handling her while she was in bed. He had been gentle and considerate, but the whole affair was still awkward and embarrassing.

Crawling into bed, she stared at the door. She needed to talk with someone about getting a large bolt. _That will keep him out._

After an hour, she began to drift off. She was almost asleep when she heard something at the door. Suddenly she was wide-awake. Staring at the doorknob, she watched as it turned, and the door quickly opened.

He was in full evening dress with an opera cape draped across his broad shoulders. In the light of the single candle, his long shadow spread across the wall. Erik shut the door behind him, and walked to her table. Bending over it, he lit several candles. Then he turned and faced her.

Jade's eyes were glittering in the light, and her chin was tipped up in defiance. She met his eyes, and the two stared at each other coolly for a long minute. Then he placed something on the table, and casually sat on the chair. Facing her, he crossed his long legs.

"Good evening Jade. You really should consider getting an additional chair in your room for visitors." He gave her a mocking smile.

His arrogance made her want to get up, and slap the smile off his face. Instead, she held her hands together to stifle that dangerous urge.

"Where did you get a key to my room?" she abruptly asked him.

" I have keys to all the rooms in my opera house," he quietly answered her.

Picking up the object that he had placed on the table, he rose and walked to the bed.

Jade backed away so that she was pressed against the headboard as he stood above her. Without thinking, she grasped her robe, and held it close about her. He noticed the gesture and his eyes hardened.

"I assure you, that is not necessary," he said to her in a cold voice. He placed the object on the bed beside her, and then smoothly returned to his seat.

Jade looked down at the book that lay next to her. It was 'A Tale of Two Cities' by Charles Dickens.

She glanced up at him. He was silently watching her with an expressionless face except for his eyes, which seemed to sparkle with anticipation.

Opening the book to the first page of text, she read silently to herself, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…" She closed the book and looked at him. Was that a slight smile on his lips? It was hard to see his face in the shadows.

"Mademoiselle, you will be needing something to entertain yourself while you recover from your illness. Feel free to borrow this for as long as you wish." With that, he got up and turned to the door.

"Wait!" she said suddenly. The moment she spoke she couldn't believe what she had done. Her practical side silently cursed her stupidity.

Erik stopped, and then slowly turned towards her. His left eyebrow was slightly arched but his face showed no other expression.

Looking down at the book, she gauged her feelings, and then looked up at the tall man. He was an intruder, but he had not harmed her. She owed him a great deal, and it was time to start paying him back.

She worked her way off the bed, and walked past him to her dresser. Inside was a box of sweets that she had bought for Gillian. Carrying the box to the table, she then turned to her uninvited guest.

"Monsieur…Erik. Would you please stay for a few moments, and tell me about the book you've lent me? You are correct. I really do need to get a second chair for my room." She removed the lid from the box, and gestured for him to sit at the table.

For the next hour, Jade sat on her bed with her back against the headrest, and Erik sat at the table as he paged through the book. He was explaining the historic aspects of Dickens' work, and describing his other novels.

Jade listened with half closed eyes. The warm candlelight softened the starkness of the white mask, and bathed his face in shadows. As he spoke, his eyes played with hers. Sometimes they were casual, at other times penetrating. And his voice…it was what one would expect to hear in church from the mouth of a gifted priest. It was beautiful, and she resisted the impulse to shut her eyes and give herself up to it.

Suddenly, he stopped talking, and looked at her intently. Then he rose, and placed the book on the table. When he again faced her, there was a stern expression on his face.

"Your are not to go outside for a least a week, and that includes trips to the café. You must arrange to have your meals brought to you. I will check in on you and let you know when you can return to work. Do not disobey me on this matter." He frowned at her to emphasize his point.

Jade got up and opened the door. She looked into the hallway to be sure that no one was about, and then signaled him with her eyes that it was safe to leave. He looked straight ahead, as if she were not there, and glided out the door.

Afterwards, she sat at the table and flipped through the book he had given her. In spite of the excitement caused by his visit, she was again tired. She blew out all but one candle, and then slid beneath the covers. The sheets were still warm. Stretching out her legs, she turned onto her side, and stared at the table.

He had appeared relaxed while sitting there, as if he belonged in her room. At times his distance had dropped away, and he had sounded like a teacher lecturing a favored student. She had the feeling that the visit tonight had been as unique an experience for him as it had been for her.

Shutting her eyes, she was soon asleep. For the first time in nearly a week, she didn't dream of blood and horses. Instead, she listened to the intonations of a distant voice that pulled her into the shadows.


	19. Chapter 19 Recovery

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers for the helpful and kind reviews. I'm dedicating this chapter to Kiwi Anime who inspired me to write this story.**

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**Chapter 19 Recovery **

After leaving Jade's room, Erik strolled through the streets of Paris. The sidewalks were crowded with the typical Friday night traffic of boisterous young men who traveled together. Some of them were drunk and jostling their companions or adjacent pedestrians. As Erik strode down the sidewalk, a young man broke away from his companions, and stumbling, fell against him. The foolish fellow grabbed Erik's cloak, and tried to push close to the tall man's face as he loudly complained about the politics of France. Swiftly, Erik pushed him off, and the man's companions caught him without offering an apology. The group noisily continued onward, unaware that they had come dangerously close to a man who did not take invasion lightly. Fortunately, Erik was in a good mood and quickly forgot the intrusion.

He continued down the streets until he reached the park. There in the brisk October night, young couples were walking side-by-side along the lake, and occasionally stopping to feed the swans. They were touching each other, and speaking in quiet voices. He watched them for a few minutes before he turned away. The bitter emptiness that he often felt when seeing young lovers was strangely absent. Instead, there was an unusual calm.

Choosing a bench in the shadows, he watched the great, ivory birds float by. They too traveled in pairs as they glided together. He had always been fond of swans. Watching them often soothed his spirit.

As he looked out across the lake, he meditated over his visit with Jade, which had been unexpectedly agreeable. She had surprised him by inviting him to stay. He had anticipated that there would be fear or anger from his intrusion into her room, and at first there had been. But what had followed had been satisfying.

She had said little, but had listened well. He had noted her intense interest as he'd explained Dickens' writings. After awhile her face had softened, and her eyes had taken on the dreamy look that he'd seen before. Erik had boldly looked into them and had enjoyed the contact. And she had seemed to enjoy it as well, not being put off by the intensity of his gaze.

At one point, he had realized that he was in the room of an attractive woman who was letting her guard down without his having previously manipulated her. She was readily responding to him.

As he recalled her feverish, naked body, the book he held wavered in his hands.

The rush of warm sensations provoked by that memory had signaled that it was time for him to leave. But before doing so, he had given her an unmistakable warning: she was not to return to work without his approval. He had decided to protect her from her tendency to overexert herself. He'd seen her push past pain and discomfort and ignore warning signs. She needed watching.

Earlier that day, DuChant had entered her quarters and Erik had watched their interaction from the mirror. DuChant had pressed her hard to betray him. In spite of the fact that she was vulnerable to her employer's demands, she had still refused to reveal what she knew. Erik had smiled as he had listened to her evasive answers.

Rising, Erik left the serenity of the lake, and walked back to the opera house. Tomorrow he would meet with Jules over the project he had commissioned on Wednesday. Jules would be able to tell him if the second party had agreed to his offer. If so, they could start the project in the next week. Erik was eager to see the work completed. It would be a fine gift.

Stretching his legs, he picked up the pace. He had pent up energy that needed to be released, and a vigorous exercise session on the ropes above the stage was exactly what he needed.

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That evening, Manette arrived home late. After hanging up her cloak, she went to the kitchen to prepare supper and tomorrow's meals. In the next few days she would be spending extra time at the opera house helping her friend, and she wanted to be sure her husband had something for Sunday dinner.

Earlier that evening, Manette and Pierre had discussed what should be done for Jade. Pierre had wanted to take her to his mother's home in his village. He was trying to get Manette's support for his plan, and had asked that she speak with Jade on his behalf.

Thinking of Pierre, she smiled as she rolled out the piecrust. He was a charming man who was sincere and intelligent. She had liked him immediately. He seemed perfect for her friend.

Although she didn't want to interfere with their relationship, the thought of Jade taking a long trip to the countryside to stay with a stranger had made her form her own plan. She would speak with her husband tonight and enlist his help.

As she prepared for bed, she approached Jean on the subject.

"Jean, I've had another thought about what we could do to help Jade. What do you think of her coming here and staying with us for the next week, until she is strong enough to manage again on her own? I can clear out the sewing room, and make a bed for her there. I believe it would only be for a week, no more. If you agree, I can speak with her tomorrow." Her eyes met her husband's through the reflection of the mirror on her vanity stand. He was in bed watching her as she brushed her hair out for the night. It was at such times that he was the most agreeable to her ideas. She was wearing a nightgown that she had recently bought that partially revealed her breasts. Her large lustrous eyes sparkled in the light as she looked over her shoulder, and gave him an inviting smile.

Jean watched her as she walked to their bed, and he swept the covers aside for her. He was eager to feel her soft curves pressed against him. They were still very passionate with each other even after several years of marriage. She was a beautiful woman, and he counted his blessings each night they were together. He found it hard to deny her anything.

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It was early Saturday morning, and Pierre was sitting in Jade's room. In a few minutes he would have to leave and go to the market. He had spent the last half hour trying to convince her to leave Paris with him in the afternoon.

He leaned forward as he spoke. His dark brown eyes were fixed on hers with a pleading look. _Jade, show some common sense! _he thought with frustration. She was looking up at him with a damnable calmness that told him he was losing.

"Jade, this is a drafty and cold place and the air of Paris is dirty and unwholesome. The countryside would be much better for you at this time. I promise we'll return as soon as you wish."

Jade listened to him but she had already made up her mind. It was a shame, because she wanted to go. Yesterday he had seen the state she was in, and had once again instinctively done the right thing for her. She knew that she would be safe with him.

But Erik had forbid her to go outside, even for a short trip to the café. The trip to Pierre's home would take hours and she would be exposed to the elements. As much as she would have enjoyed spending the time with Pierre, she trusted Erik's judgment more. He seemed to have a good sense of medical matters.

She _needed_ to rely on someone else's sound judgment. She'd had a terrible week in which her common sense had repeatedly failed her. That morning she'd thought about the errors she had made that had led to her illness. It was amazing how foolish she'd been!

Maybe her lapse in judgment was due to the nightmares that were damaging her sleep. Or maybe it was caused by the ongoing doubts she'd had about her sanity since last Sunday. Whatever the reason, she'd realized that she needed to accept the advice of another.

Jade placed her hand over Pierre's. _He's a dear friend and wants what's best for me, _she thought.She knew that he was attracted to her, but he hadn't pressured her to return the feelings. She had never known a man who was as patient and kind as he.

_Except for Jean-Luc._

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Jade spent the rest of the day feeling restless. Reading the book had helped, but not enough. Her room was too small. She longed to be walking and moving, either outside or in the opera house. However, she felt incredibly weak. She had tried walking the hallway but the activity had winded her, and forced her to stop.

One of the errand boys had brought her another chair for her room. The rash of visitors to her room the previous day and Erik's mocking words had helped her see the necessity.

_Erik._

He had said that he would be checking on her. She needed to get that bolt for her door.

Jade had been in an extraordinary state of mind last night. She had actually invited an intruder to stay with her and visit. It had been fortunate that he had acted rationally and like a gentleman. He could just as easily have behaved badly and then what would she have done?

Rising from the bed, she went to her wardrobe where her breeches hung. There she pulled the leather to her nose, and inhaled the odors from the stable as she eyed the cashmere cloak. A moment later when she strode across the room, her knees buckled. Grabbing the table to keep her balance, she thought, _this is so frustrating!_ _Damn this weakness! _

Lowering herself on to the chair, she stared at her useless legs until the tin of sweets caught her eye. As she recalled her offering it to Erik, she suddenly wanted to fling it at the mirror and hear the glass shatter.

He was using her weakness to his advantage! He was intrusive, manipulative, and determined to have contact with her. All in all, someone you did your best to avoid.

She analyzed his behavior. He crept around at night, came into her locked room, and hid his face behind a mask. He was also responsible for murder and mayhem, not to mention his obsession with a former diva. He was dangerous and proximity to him could mean disaster. Already her association with him had threatened her relationship with her employer.

_Why do I keep thinking about him?_

Perhaps she should go to the countryside with Pierre. Health concerns or not, it was probably a wise choice considering what she was dealing with here.

Jade looked into the mirror. The black under her eyes was fading, and the haggard look was nearly gone.

_If I leave, how will I repay him?_

Exiting her room, she forced her legs to try again.

0000

Manette departed for her home, and Jade restlessly watched her go. She envied Manette's freedom. She could come and go as she pleased whereas Jade was trapped in her room.

She was considering Manette's proposal. At least at Manette's home she would be able to look out the window and see sunlight. Her room had become a prison.

Leaving her room, Jade walked along the corridor until she reached its end. Then she pressed on through the next hall to the staircase beyond. Descending the stairs was easy but going back up was like climbing a mountain. She had to stop halfway to catch her breath. When she reached the top her chest ached and her legs gave out. As she sat on the floor with her back slumped against the wall, she rested. After several minutes, she pulled herself up, and made it halfway down the hall before she collapsed again.

The corridor stretched out in front of her, and she felt dwarfed by its interminable length. Gritting her teeth, she tensed her muscles as she prepared to drag herself on her hands and knees.

She felt him before she heard him—his strong hands were around her waist. She was suddenly picked up, and in his arms as he quickly strode towards her room. His pace didn't falter, and she wondered if he even noticed her weight. Then she was in her room and tossed onto her bed.

Erik shut the door, and then spun on his heel and faced her. He was furious with her. She could feel his anger, like a hot poker to the flesh. She knew that she had inadvertently broken one of his rules, and that he was probably about to punish her.

Too weak to get around him, she stayed on the bed, and stared across the room at her tormentor. _How dare he pick me up like a sack of potatoes and fling me on my bed? I would have made it back on my own. I won't let him control me!_

They glared across the room at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

Erik began to move slowly towards her like a wild animal stalking prey. He hadn't gotten far when the book hit him in the shoulder. The horseshoe followed and glanced off his forehead. The blow caused him to stagger forward as he reached out to grab her. She slid out from under him and was at the door.

Standing in the hallway just outside her room, she stared back at him through the open door. She held her head low and watched him from beneath her brow.

He stared back at her and hid his astonishment. _A moment ago she could barely crawl and now she's flinging objects at me. Where the hell did that horseshoe come from?_

The sudden rage quickly faded as he saw her standing in the hall. With her head down, she looked like a determined, frightened young bull, and he berated himself. He had come here to help not hurt her. Yet there she was, too frightened to enter her room.

Erik picked up the book from the floor, and sat at the table. As he looked away from her, he noticed that the book she had tossed at him was 'A Tale of Two Cities' and not her precious 'Jane Eyre.'

Jade watched him for several minutes. Her muscles were shaking, and she was steeling herself against collapse. Slowly, she walked back into the room, and closed the door behind her. She inwardly grimaced at the thought of shutting herself in with him but she needed to face him and not run away.

Warily, she leaned against as she stared at him.

Erik closed the book and turned to her.

"Jade, please come and sit over here at the table. I promise that I will be a gentleman."

_All right, _she thought. _But gentlemen have been known to behave badly when given the chance._She walked to the table, and took a seat across from him.

The anger was gone from his face. She looked into his eyes, and waited for him to speak.

"You must understand that when I found you exhausted in the hallway, I was angry that you had disobeyed me. I told you not to overexert yourself."

"No, Erik," she flashed back. "You told me not to work or to go outside for a least a week. I was building up my strength by exercising. I simply misjudged the distance."

His mouth tightened, and he gave her a penetrating look. "Lately you have been doing that quite a bit, misjudging."

Looking down, she refused to meet his eyes. _He's correct. But that doesn't give him the right to control me, _she thought.

Erik sighed.She was stubbornly turning away from him. He needed to use another approach.

"Jade, I will try not to lose my temper, if you will try not to overexert yourself. Agreed?"

She looked up at him. _He sounds reasonable, _she thought.

She studied his face. When he didn't look stern, his face was attractive, even handsome. He was older than she, probably somewhere in his thirties. She liked him better like this, when he was coaxing instead of threatening.

"Agreed," Jade replied. Lifting her chin she held his gaze.

Erik got up to leave. As he walked away, Jade realized that he had again helped her, albeit roughly. She had reacted partly in self-defense but also out of anger at his controlling ways. After their exchange, she was feeling guilty that she had wanted to hurt him.

Before he opened the door, she called out to him. "Erik."

He stopped, and partially turned his head so that only the masked side of his face showed.

"I am sorry if I hurt you."

The cold mask stared back at her for a moment, and then he was gone.


	20. Chapter 20 Rehearsal

**Chapter 20 Rehearsal**

Manette's dark head bent over the letter as she sat in the stillness of the grand foyer. A shaft of sunlight lay across her shoulders, and warmed her skin as she rested on the cool marble bench. The rich gold of the marble floor soaked up the autumn light and bathed her in its serene glow.

Staring into the blue shadows that rimmed the room, she recalled Jade's strange behavior that morning when she had slipped the note into Manette's pocket. Jade had whispered into her friend's ear to read it in private, and _to keep it on her person at all times._

At last, she had a free moment to read the mysterious note.

**Dear Manette, **

**I have decided to accept your and Jean's kind offer to stay at your home for the next week. If you would be so kind to order a carriage for us when you are ready to go home this evening, I will meet you in the grand foyer at 6PM.**

**Please do not tell anyone of our arrangement. I would like to leave quietly without drawing attention to myself.**

**Sincerely,**

**Jade **

Folding the note, she tucked it into a deep pocket in her skirt, and quickly walked to the auditorium.

As she climbed the grand staircase, her fingers stroked the sleek banister. It was wonderful that Jade was going to visit her and Jean. It was a milestone for their friendship that she had accepted their hospitality.

But why was she doing it with such secrecy?

Pausing before the door to the auditorium, she decided that she would keep this to herself, and not tell Jean. She and Jade would simply surprise him when they arrived home in the evening.

Manette had a very busy day ahead of her, as she would be assisting Madame Lacroix with the dance rehearsals. Everyone at the opera house was rushing towards the final dress rehearsal and opening night. The Opera Populaire had a frenzied air about it, and was bursting with the high energy of hundreds of highly focused artists and staff.

Stepping into the auditorium, she looked beyond the rows of seats to the stage below. Madame Lacroix and Madame Deschamps were on stage with the dancers. From the scraps of conversation that she could hear, Manette assumed that they were discussing the petite ballet that would be taking place in Act 2.

Taking in an excited breath, she hurried towards the stage. It was wonderful to be once again working with real dancers.

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That afternoon, the hallways in the staff quarters were particularly quiet. Sunday was typically the day that most of the staff had free. But on that Sunday, everyone was at his or her job in the opera house as they scurried to catch up with the revised work schedule.

Jade was roaming the halls with her energy on the rise. She had successfully descended and ascended two flights of stairs, and was eager to push herself further, and reach the excitement of the auditorium below. The only thing that held her back was her promise to Erik. At that moment, she was regretting that she had made it, and that she had so readily agreed to his terms. The urge to hear music, and see the colorful costumes and dance outweighed the risk of his wrath.

But, a promise was a promise, and she reluctantly turned back to her room.

With feet propped up, she massaged her tight legs. They were stronger than yesterday, which was good since she would need to use them soon. The music in her head was pounding away at her peace of mind, and showed no sign of letting up. She needed to dance out the tune.

Setting her feet on the floor, she took stock of her room. If she pushed the furniture aside, she might be able to create the space that she needed. Gazing into the huge mirror, she noticed that it altered the receding lines of the walls, and tricked the mind into believing that the room was much larger. Perhaps, if she were to pretend…

She placed her shoulder against the bed's headboard and pushed hard until he bed jumped and hit the wall. Then she moved the table and placed the chairs on top of it. Glancing at the heavy wardrobe, she resigned to leaving it in place. Instead, she tossed a blanket across its front to protect her from its sharp corners, and then turned and surveyed her work.

_I won't be able to leap or move quickly across the floor, _she thought._ But with luck, it may do._

The heavy smell of burning wax mixed with a hint of gas from the lamp made her feel a little sluggish. But once she had removed her shoes, the cool floor roused her bare feet and energized her.

After stretching her arms, she paused and listened to the tune that was in her mind. As she stood in front of the mirror, she could see the music tangling itself in her body. It gathered around her tight shoulders and stiff neck, and rigidly hung on and blocked the flow of vital energy to other parts of her body. She felt tense and hidebound. More than anything, Jade wanted to break away and strike out at the space around her.

Getting down on her hands and knees, she rocked to the disjointed rhythm. After several minutes, her neck and shoulders began to relax. She arched her back like a cat and felt her spine pop pop pop with a satisfying staccato. With one long stretch, she pulled and twisted the tension from her muscles.

Raising her shoulders, she clenched her fists, and began to slowly pound them against the floor. Each blow crushed her doubts, tension, as nightmares as new blood rushed to her arteries. The pain was a relief. It washed away the dissonant melody.

Jade rose to her feet and trotted in place. Pivoting on one leg, she struck at the air with the other, and released the bound energy. Then she did one pirouette after another with the music wildly spiraling around her until her legs gave way, and she fell against the table.

As she grasped the table, she hung her head and listened to the melody which had changed to a slower refrain. Moving to the mirror, she swayed in front of the mirror and followed the new rhythm.

Staring into the mirror, she sensed emptiness, and dim passages beyond that wound into darkness. Like a loadstone, the darkness reached out, and pulled at her until she felt a shiver run up her spine. Then the music ended, and she was free.

Exhausted, she crawled into bed, and lay curled up on its edge with a pillow clasped to her chest. Her hands throbbed with pain but the silence was worth it. Shutting her eyes, she passed into a deep and dreamless sleep.

0000

Jade awoke to a loud pounding sound. Groggily, she pushed herself off the bed and cautiously opened the door.

A very large man stood in front of her who was slowly blinking, and looking at her shyly.

"Mlle. Bouta?' he finally asked. His eyes traveled up and down her frame as if he were estimating how much she weighed. He pulled a letter from his pocket, which he pushed into her hands. Then he quickly stepped back a foot and waited.

Jade looked at him suspiciously since she hadn't seen him around the opera house before. She nodded to him as she took the letter from his hand, and then quickly shut the door in his face.

From the safety of her locked room, she opened the letter and read:

**Mlle. Bouta,**

**Please accompany the messenger who bears this letter. He will carry you to the theater so that you may attend rehearsals today. **

**I trust that you will find the change a pleasant diversion from the boredom of your quarters.**

**Your obedient servant,**

**E.**

Jade stared at the note in her hands, and then at the closed door in front of her. _How strange of him to send someone to fetch me! _ After a moment's reflection she thought, _and yet, not so strange. Why do I even pretend to know what he might do next?_

Another heavy knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts. She glanced up at the sturdy wood panels, and a warm flush of excitement colored her face. Moving to the wardrobe, she took out the bag that she had packed for her trip to Manette's. Then opening the door, she stepped into the corridor, and joined the large man who was twiddling his thumbs as he waited.

The bear of a man carried her to the management offices where she left the bag near her desk. A moment later she was back in his arms, and traveling to the grand foyer. Quickly he bore her up the great staircase to a hallway that led to the private boxes overlooking the auditorium.

Jade flinched as they reached the silent hallway. The whole experience was beginning to feel eerie and somewhat sinister. She hadn't spent time in this part of the opera house, and was entering territory that she regarded as forbidden to the average staff member.

A minute later she was in a private box and the man had departed.

Jade looked around expecting to see a cloaked figure lurking in the corner. Instead, she saw a note on the table with her name on it. Opening it, she read:

**Jade,**

**Please join me in box five, which is three doors down from your left.**

**E.**

Box five was empty. However, the curtains were open and there was an excellent view of the stage below. Turning to the table, Jade eyed the wine and food that were laid out in anticipation of a late lunch. There was also a small tin of fine chocolates. Their rich, sweet smell perfumed the small room.

Looking down at the stage, she noticed that the chairs in the box were back far enough that one could see the activity below, but not be seen. She watched the people for a minute, and then settled into a chair and waited.

After a few minutes the voices faded, and the orchestra began to play.

Jade hadn't met the principals of the opera, but she guessed that the lone woman on the stage was playing the role of Aida. The song pouring from the singer was intensely sad. Closing her eyes, she focused on the pure soprano voice, and was grateful that the music in her mind was silent so that she could fully appreciate the singing.

There was a soft rustling to her right, and a slight swish of air against her arm. Opening her eyes she saw Erik sitting in the chair only a couple feet away from her.

He was wearing a suit and a waistcoat, but the cape was absent. Since he appeared to be intently watching the singer, and paying no attention to Jade, she studied him for a moment. His pale face was in profile with a trace of the white mask showing. His smooth black hair was neatly pulled back with a ribbon, and softly shone in the dim light.

Erik turned from the stage, and he poured the wine. As he offered her the glass, their eyes met. Suddenly, Jade was no longer in box five but was back at the stable in the wounded stallion's stall with her heart beating fiercely. The wine glass touched her hand and its cool, hard surface pulled her back to the present. She quickly lowered her eyes, and took the glass from him with a nod.

Handing her a plate of food, he motioned for her to eat. After taking her plate, she watched him from under her lashes as he casually bit into the bread and cheese, and sipped the wine with his eyes fixed on the stage. Their shared meal put her a little more at ease with him but she still remained ready for an unpredictable move on his part.

Jade sipped her wine, and listened to the music floating up from below. The contact between them was beginning to feel almost normal. She was perched in a lavish Opera box, and enjoying a good wine in broad daylight with the Opera Ghost. The whole situation was vaguely amusing.

_Don't get too comfortable, _her practical side suddenly warned. _The last time he made an appearance here, he was murdering people._

The singer finished, and Erik leaned close to Jade as he quietly explained the plot of the opera.

She had never experienced the drama of opera, much less that of a Grand Opera. Each song and interaction told its own small story, and she watched carefully for the meaning. The music was fantastic—far better in the auditorium than what she had heard in the offices. And the marriage of voice to orchestra was powerfully moving.

Again, she felt warm breath on her ear as Erik leaned closer to explain.

"Here is where Aida enters the tomb of the man she loves. She declares her love, and her intention to die with him."

Something in Erik's voice made her look at him. He was leaning forward with a clenched jaw as he gripped his chair, and focused on the stage.

His intense display of emotions startled her. Suddenly it felt wrong for her to be there, as if she were invading his private feelings. Quickly she lowered her eyes, and turned back to the singers.

The opera was coming to an end. Aida and Radames were passionately singing their final duet as they faced their deaths. Aida's soul was burning out like a candle as her lover desperately held her for one last moment.

Jade turned away from the stage, and shut her eyes. _It's only a performance, _she thought. _It's not real. _But she couldn't stop the tears. Nor would she wipe them away and bring attention to herself. She waited for the wave of pain to end.

The tears stopped, and the image of Jean-Luc slipped safely back into the past.

It was close to 5 o'clock and the rehearsals were finished for the day. It was time for her to leave.

She looked at Erik who was eyeing her swollen hands. He placed his index finger on one hand, and traced the bruise that was beginning to expand on its surface. Then he looked into her eyes, and raised his eyebrow in a question. Jade looked away, avoiding his curiosity and concern.

Rising, Erik looked down at her as his face settled into cool indifference.

"Jade, I have not made arrangements for someone to carry you back to your room. If you will permit me, I will take you there myself."

Her mouth opened in surprise, and then she quickly shut it as she composed herself. _Exactly how does he plan on doing that? _she wondered.

Erik stood there motionless, waiting for her answer.

Turning away, she puzzled over her dilemma. She was beginning to trust him, and it seemed a kind offer. However, the thought of being in his arms was causing her heart to pound, and a chill to run up her spine.

_He's very good at this, _she thought restlessly. _He's wearing down my resistance._

Gazing at her swollen hands, she finally decided.

"Erik, thank you for everything. I won't be returning to my room just yet. Instead, I have something I wish to do at the office first. If you could take me there, I'm sure that I can get help to return to my room afterwards."

Erik's eyes burned into her and there was a little frown on his brow.

Jade quickly continued. "I won't be working there, I promise."

After swinging the cloak across his shoulders, he turned and faced her. He was holding a black scarf between his gloved hands.

"The passages I will be taking you through are a secret. Would you allow me to blindfold you?" He held the cloth casually in his hands as if it were a mere hat or cloak.

Jade backed away as the tension gripped her stomach. She was remembering the rope that had bound her wrists in the storeroom. Once again she felt trapped. Instinctively she raised her arm to strike out.

He was at her side before she could speak. His fingers were on her wrist, and his warm breath was at her ear. Softly, he murmured to her, "Jade, I will take you immediately to the offices and no further. I promise."

As she stood there frozen, the memory of the wounded stallion came to her. She could see Erik's hands stroking and soothing away the wounded horse's pain.

After a long exhalation, she nodded to him. Gently he placed the scarf over her eyes.

She was in his arms. Then there was a grating sound followed by silence.

The air changed and became heavier and cooler. She knew they were encased in stone as they moved quickly along the passages. Downwards they traveled, silently. Jade listened to the soft sound of his breathing, and then realized that she was holding her own breath. She was trying not to lean against him, and in a gentlemanly fashion, he was holding her out a little from his body so as not to force a false intimacy upon her.

The practical part of her whispered about danger, but the adventurer in her hushed the fear.

Soon it was over, and the familiar sight of a hall near the management offices replaced the excitement of that dark journey. The blindfold had been removed and Erik was gone.

Checking the time, she noted that it was half past five. After fifteen minutes she took her bag, and walked to the grand foyer.

Manette was standing alone in the foyer and waiting for her. Her cheerful, bright expression soothed Jade's jangled nerves.

As they stepped towards the doors, Jade paused and looked behind her. She was searching for a darker shadow within the shadows but there was nothing there.

With the great building to their backs, they descended the stairs, and walked across the Place de l'Opera to the cabs that were gathered beyond. In the diminishing light of twilight the two women entered a waiting carriage. Then a sharp tap on the roof signaled the driver to leave.

The carriage slowly moved through the evening traffic as night descended on the city. Jade sat back in her seat and avoided Manette's eyes as she reflected on what she had just done.

Erik would feel angry with her when he found out that she had disobeyed his orders. After the intimacy of Box five, he would probably feel betrayed as well. The next time they met, the gentle touch of his hand would be replaced by something less pleasant.

Gazing out the carriage window, she watched the people who were walking past the closed shops. Wrapped up in their private worlds and living average lives, they seemed oblivious to the people around them. Jade found their normalcy comforting.

Manette was silently looking out the window as well. Jade hoped that for the sake of her friend, Erik would not follow her. She didn't want to put Manette and Jean in danger. She would have to tell them what she had told DuChant, that someone had taken an interest in her. It was important that she convince them to keep her presence in their home a secret if she wished to avoid his visiting them.

Closing her eyes, Jade made the sign of the cross, and said a prayer to the Blessed Virgin asking for the safeguarding of Manette, and Jean.

And then she prayed for Erik as well.


	21. Chapter 21 Desire

**A/N: this chapter has sexually explicit material and is therefore RATED M. **

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**Chapter 21 Desire**

The carriage stopped on a narrow street in front of a small apartment house. The single streetlamp shed a faint beam on the lower floor of the building that patterned the empty, black windows with a faded yellow. After dispatching the driver, Manette leaned against the front door, and jiggled her key in the old lock, which gave way with a loud, extended creak.

Jade watched the departing carriage move slowly down the street, and disappear into the shadows. She turned to the stone building, and her eyes followed the line of windows to the roof and to the night sky above. There the stars flickered dimly, drowned out by the city lights. Their gray pinpricks hinted at a vast openness beyond. If she had been in the countryside, those points of light would have filled the sky, and formed a majestic dome of hushed light under which she could dance. Here the stars were powerless ghosts, watered down versions of their formerly robust selves. It was strange how the city altered reality.

A light breeze touched her hair, and she reflexively pulled her cloak closer. If Erik were to catch her standing on that cool street as she stared dumbly at the sky, he would do more than angrily fling her onto a bed. She frowned at that thought.

They quickly entered the building.

Manette hung up the cloaks and signaled Jade to put her things in the corner of the sitting room. Then she moved around the apartment briskly doing chores. She lit the fire in the front room, and moved to the kitchen. In a short time she was back with a hot drink for Jade, who was sitting quietly near the hearth and staring into the flames. Upstairs the occasional sound of footsteps thudded above their heads.

The sounds of Manette bustling about, and the occasional stirrings of Jean above surrounded Jade as she settled into her new environment. The warmth of the fire and Manette's kindness imparted a sense of peace and safety. She knew that this was the right place for her to regain her health and strength. It would only be a short time, and then she would be able to return to her work at the opera house.

_**If** I go back, _she thought.

That question had been rattling through her brain all day: what to do next. Here it was, the chance to make a change, or at the very least, an opportunity to think without being under pressure.

She stretched her hands out to the fire. It was comfortable in that unfamiliar room. The lamps were lit and shone brightly upon the inexpensive furniture. By the look of most of the furnishings, Manette and Jean were living within their means, without extravagance. However, the walls were decorated with beautiful paintings and hangings that looked new and appeared to be the work of a single artist. The room was resplendent with creative design. And no wonder, since Jean was a consummate set design artist. It seemed natural that his passion would reach beyond the opera house.

_The Opera house._

In the last month, Jade had fallen in love with everything about it: the building, the music, the horses, Gillian. The list was growing. And then there was Erik…

_The grace, the flamboyance, and the mystery of the place—it's all embodied in him, _she mused. Then it came to her:_ **He is the Opera!**_

With his pale face fixed in her mind, Jade glanced at the shadows that draped the corners of the room. They reminded her that even in that cozy setting, the proximity of darkness to light was inevitable. If she returned to the shelter of the opera house, she would have to accept Erik and his history.

_No, _she thought. _Acceptance isn't the right word. He wants more than that. _

That thought gave her a chill, and caused the hair on her skin to bristle. She'd had the same feeling earlier that day when he offered to carry her from the opera box to the offices. What was it about him that disturbed and attracted her at the same time? His intensity? His single-mindedness? Close contact with him threatened to overwhelm her. _How does one say no to such a man? _she pondered.Without that boundary, the risk of contact was too great.

She had left the opera house hoping for time to reflect and decide.

Light footsteps descending the stairs. A moment later Jean entered the room, and found Jade. He gave her a bright smile, and pulled up a chair beside her next to the fire.

Jade liked Jean. He had said little when they shared suppers in the opera café, but she still felt at ease with him. It was as if he had decided when he had first met her that she was someone good for his life.

He was looking at the fire, and apparently fascinated by the slithering flames. As she watched him, she wondered what creative ideas were tickling his mind.

During supper they sat at the kitchen table, and talked about their day. Jean explained the modifications that Mme. Deschamps had ordered for the set of Act IV. The split-level design was proving to be a challenge. Deschamps had recently gotten a letter from the composer Verdi, who had definite ideas about how it should be done. She had passed them on to Jean and his crew, who were rushing to complete the work. Verdi would be coming tomorrow. Jean spoke happily about their progress as he speared a chunk of meat and popped it into his mouth.

Manette's day had also been exciting. She had been Mme. Lacroix's assistant and the dancers had fluttered around her and followed her directions. As she talked about the rehearsal, her cheeks flushed with color and her large eyes sparkled.

After dinner, they sat around the fire. Jean was working with a small sketchpad on ideas for the opera and Manette and Jade were doing mending.

Jade cleared her throat, and forced herself to speak about what she had been thinking of all evening.

"Jean, Manette, I need to tell you about something." She cleared her throat again. _This is going to be difficult._

They both stopped what they were doing and looked at her curiously. In the time they had known her, Jade had never made a declaration. They were accustomed to her saying practically nothing.

"When I accepted your offer to stay with you, I did it for two reasons. First, I wanted a change from my quarters. I thought it would be pleasant to spend time with you both and get out of my cramped room."

They were nodding in agreement.

"The second reason is because of another matter. In the last month, I have been receiving notes and gifts from someone who visits the opera house, and who has taken an interest in me."

Manette was slowly nodding her head in recognition, which took Jade by surprise. _What does she know? _she wondered.

Jade continued. "I'm not sure exactly what he wants from me. However, he is greatly interested in my health. I think that he might not approve of my leaving the opera house and visiting with you. And if he knows where I am, he may try to visit and check on me. I would rather that he doesn't do that."

Pausing for a moment, she studied Manette and Jean, who both looked concerned. Jean's eyes were sharp and hard. Jade began to blush as she thought of the situation she had put her friends in. It was natural that they would feel put out and angry with her because of her selfishly involving them in her problem.

"Jade, is he forcing himself upon you?" said Jean in a low, restrained voice. His eyes were flashing.

Jade hesitated and looked down, not knowing how much to say. Erik had told her that he didn't want her to reveal their meetings. She hoped that she was being vague enough to protect that trust.

She sighed. _Now comes the hard part. I don't want to lie, _she thought.

"Not exactly," Jade answered. "It's difficult to explain. He's unpredictable and I think, impulsive. He has helped me and has caused me no harm. It's just… just happening so quickly, all this attention." _There, _she thought. _Make the whole thing sound as normal as possible. _At that moment she wanted to give Erik a good kick for putting her in this awkward position.

Moving next to Jade, Manette took her hands in hers, and gave her husband a knowing look.

Jade continued. "I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that I'm staying with you. He seems to have connections at the opera house, and easily discovers events there." Jade looked earnestly at them, and felt embarrassed that she had to ask them to hide her.

Manette patted her hand, and Jean reached out and touched her as well.

A little later they retired for the night.

Jade had a comfortable second story bedroom with a small balcony. Before going to sleep, she checked the lock on the window and drew the drapes. Then she went downstairs and checked the rest of the windows and the door to be certain that everything was secure.

Sighing with relief, she walked up the stairs. Erik may have a key to every room in the opera house, but not here. She could lock him out if he were to try to get in.

She lay on her bed and faced the draped window as she gazed at the light that pooled onto the floor below. It felt good to again be safe from intrusions. Sleep came to her quickly.

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The next morning Erik awoke relaxed and refreshed. For the third night in a row he had slept through the night without awakening. He spread his arms in a long, lazy stretch. Getting up, he threw on a thick robe, and walked to the kitchen where he prepared a hearty breakfast. Carrying the plate outside of the house, he sat on a bench next to the lake and ate as he occasionally scattered crumbs onto the water. It was peaceful in the darkness.

Today he would meet with Jules about the special project. Final arrangements needed to be made in order for the piece to be executed. The opera house was currently in controlled chaos, and it should be relatively easy to get the man into the building and have him do the task. Erik expected to have the piece finished, and delivered to him within a month.

He smiled with satisfaction. It would be an excellent gift.

Yesterday, after he had left Jade, he had pulled out sheet music and played for several hours. Then he had composed for several more. He was pleased with the results. He had captured the feelings that he had wanted to express. The composition was taking shape and possessed strength and grace.

Standing in front of the mirror, he finished his toilet and assessed his appearance. Everything was in place.

He would check in on Jade before he left to meet with Jules.

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Looking through the mirror Erik could see that she wasn't in her room, therefore, she had to be somewhere else in the building. He began to systematically comb the corridors. When she didn't turn up, he widened his search to cover the auditorium area, including the private boxes and the grand foyer. The stage was quite a distance from her room but she was resourceful and may have gotten help.

An hour later he returned to her room. His temper was rising, and he knew what he would find there.

Her night clothes were gone, as well as toilet items, two of her outfits and the new cloak she had recently purchased. Her work clothes, the cloak he had given her, and a few pieces of clothing remained. Clearly, she hadn't left for good, and planned to return.

His fury was mounting as he thought of her deliberate, and willful disobedience of his orders. _And after the time we spent together yesterday! _He had trusted her. How could he have known that as he carried her to the offices, she had already set in motion her plan to leave? She had acted as if she had trusted him, even cried in his presence during the final scene of Aida. And then she had stolen away in the night. **_Liar!_**

Opening the wardrobe, he furiously pulled out the cloak he gave her, which he rolled up, and thrust under his arm. There was a bodice hanging next to the cloak that he accidentally brushed with his hand. As the garment moved it gave off a faint smell of mint, which hung in the air. He stopped and took in a deep breath. _She must have been sitting next to a bush, and rubbed its scent into her clothing, _he thought. His anger cooled as he slowly explored the contents of the massive wardrobe. His long fingers squeezed her breeches and stirred up the sweet, dusty smell of hay and horses.

Erik walked over to the table and sat down. Unfolding the cloak, he shook it out so that it draped across the flat surface. It smelled faintly of bath soap and the hood held the scent of her hair. She didn't wear a perfume like Christine. She simply picked up the odors of what was around her, and left her own delicate mark to mingle with them.

Staring at the cloak, he wondered how long it would take for her to trust him enough to wear it in public. Carefully he refolded it and tucked it under his arm. Then he left the room via the mirror.

He met with Jules, and they spent the morning discussing new architecture commissions and other projects.

When he was finished, Erik returned to the opera house and waited for Manette to leave.

As she walked home, he trailed her. She chose well-lit streets so he kept his face covered with his hood to avoid prying eyes. Eventually she went down a narrow, poorly lit side street that led to an apartment house. Then she disappeared through the front door.

He walked around the building and assessed which windows belonged to which units. Then he stood in the shadows, and waited for the lights to go out for the night. An hour later, when the last one was extinguished, he approached the front door with his bag of tools. After oiling the hinges, he worked the door carefully and slowly opened it. Then he quietly slipped inside, and shut the door behind him.

Nosing around the downstairs, he quickly grasped its layout before approaching the stairs. When he heard an upstairs door open he hid in the shadows, and watched as the small figure came down the stairs. It was Jade. She walked to the kitchen, and a minute later returned to the upstairs.

Erik crept up the stairs behind her and watched her walk down the narrow hallway to a room at its end.

The door closed quietly, and he stared in its direction. _If I go in quickly, I can cover her mouth before she can cry out, _he thought.He smiled darkly. That would frighten her, and she deserved a good fright. It would teach her not to disobey him in the future. It would also show her that he was a force to be reckoned with, and was not easy to evade.

As Erik stood at the top of the stairs, two feelings vied for control. There was the need to discipline her and tame her obstinate will. If he was to continue to see her, he must teach her to take his commands seriously. The second was a gentler desire—the urge to sit beside her in silence, and smell the faint scent of her hair with her warm breath on his neck. The memory of her in his arms was still vibrating in his mind.

He knew that he couldn't have both.

Silently, he stood at her door, as he pressed his ear against it, and listened. There was silence within. Reaching down, he touched the doorknob. Then, thinking better of it, he turned away and silently traveled down the stairs and back to his home.

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Jade slept in that morning, allowing Jean and Manette to have time alone before they left for the opera house. After they were gone, she dressed and went down to the front room. She pulled open the heavy drapes so that the bright morning light could fill the room. It was a lovely day. Opening the window a crack, she breathed in the delightfully cool air. It had been forever since she'd been able to see and feel the outside while she sat in a room. She opened the book she had carried down from her room, and settled in to read the last part of A Tale of Two Cities.

The day passed slowly and peacefully as she took turns reading, staring out the window, and exercising her legs on the staircase. There were occasional naps as she lay on the couch with the book on her chest. When she awoke, she would lie there and study the many paintings on the walls. The colors were lively with imaginative and entertaining forms. Jean was very talented and she smiled as she took admired his work.

At sunset, she lit a fire and prepared the evening meal. By the time Jean and Manette arrived, the smells of stew and pie filled the apartment.

After dinner, the three sat around the fire and discussed the opera house's new celebrity, Verdi.

"He was magnificent," exclaimed Jean as he leaned back in his chair. "He took command the moment he entered and the stage was a buzz from his directions. We were spinning from his ideas!" he said with an enormous smile.

Manette nodded in agreement. "He had several ideas of how the ballet was to be performed, especially the scene in the temple in Act I, scene 2. He was very specific about how the dancers were to stand before the dance. Then afterwards he gathered them together with their fans in a very dramatic pose." She gestured with a sweep of her arm that imitated a huge fan.

After the lights were out for the night, Jade lay in her bed and listened to the sounds of the building. At one point she thought she heard the creak of the front door, but it was too soft a sound so she dismissed it. A few minutes later she restlessly rose, and decided to go to the kitchen for some water. Returning to her room, she lay in the dark, sleepless. The stillness pushed against her body in the velvety darkness and heightened her senses.

Her room was next to Manette's and Jean's. Shortly after they retired for the night, sounds drifted into Jade's room that consisted of moans, gasps, and brief cries of passion. They were probably trying to not make too much noise because of their guest but it had gotten loud enough that their pleasure was unmistakable. Jade couldn't help but listen to the rhythm of the sounds, and she felt her body inadvertently respond.

The thrumming and tingling sensations continued and the trip downstairs for the glass of water only gave her a brief respite.

XXShe reached under the covers and tentatively felt the warmth of her skin. It was like an oven beneath the heavy quilts that Manette had piled upon the bed. The place between her legs was hotter still, and moist. It had been awhile since she had touched herself there, what with all the distractions and adjustments she had been going through since coming to Paris. But hearing her friends on the other side of the wall had woken up a part of herself and the sudden need of her body was demanding attention.

She softly stroked her thighs and then her breasts. Her thoughts traveled to the past and to Jean-Luc. She could smell his sweat and feel his broad hands covering her. His lips touched her temples and then her lips in a chaste kiss as her own hands caressed her inner thighs. Touching the flesh between her legs, warmth crept to her breasts, and she imagined his weight resting upon her with his belly pressed close to hers. Now his scent was clearer—the smell of the lake and sun. She drifted easily into the daydream, which gradually intensified as the stimulation increased. His gentleness changed; he was passionately pressing her into the bed, and pushing closer as the pleasure between her legs became a hollow ache. Jean-Luc's face faded and it was Pierre who was looking down at her. His sun-browned face was flushed as he slowly worked his way between her thighs. There was an intense look of satisfaction in his eyes. Jade sighed and opened herself up to him.

She imagined him entering her as the stroking and the pressing between her legs intensified. Her body tightened and she came very close to her release. Suddenly, the soft brown eyes were gone, replaced by a darker, more penetrating stare. Pierre had disappeared. It was Erik above her, relentlessly pushing himself inside of her. He was burrowing into her, and capturing her soul.

She turned her head aside, avoiding his lips, but it was too late. She could smell him and his passion covered her like a cloak that tightly wrapped around and bound her to him. Her body was on fire and she climaxed while his hands held and caressed her.

The release was explosive. She shivered from the near pain of the orgasm.

Afterwards, she lay in silence, troubled by the betrayal of her body. _It can't be, _she thought. _He's wrong for me._

But there it was, and there was no denying the feelings.

Soberly she stared at the light beneath the drapes for half the night before she finally fell asleep.


	22. Chapter 22 Return

**Chapter 22 Return**

Manette adjusted the costume of the petite ballerina as she deftly tucked and pinned the damaged fabric. They were nearly ready for the rehearsal of the Dance of Little Moorish Slaves and there was no time for the dancer to slip out of the garment. The five foot high platform was in place with the principal playing Amneris perched on top. Two of the dancers leaned against its side partially taking weight off of their tired legs while they nursed minor injuries. Manette watched them with sympathy. It would be a long day for them.

She looked up and saw Pierre approaching. He was threading his way between sets and props with a determined look. As he brushed against a cluster of performers who refused to give way, a rain of curses were flung at him. He continued forward without a backward glance.

Leaving the stage, Manette quickly moved to a side entrance, and stood under a stand of palm trees where she waited for Pierre to join her.

"Pierre, I'm glad to see you," she said, as she smiled. His hair was disheveled and he looked as if he'd been running his fingers through it. He opened his mouth to speak but she quickly put her finger to her lips to signal silence.

They left the crowded stage area and made their way through the halls to the outdoors. As they descended the stairs to the plaza, Manette looked around for privacy. A quarter of a mile later, they found a bench on a tiny patch of lawn.

The wind blew in gusts and scattered dry leaves across their feet. Manette was shivering as she arranged her skirt before sitting down. Noticing her discomfort, Pierre removed his cloak and draped it around her shoulders. As he covered her chilled hands with his own, he wondered what they were doing there. _Why the secrecy? _he wondered.

The wind tugged her curls from their pins and scattered them about her forehead. Her cheeks were raw and rosy, and her eyes shone brightly with excitement.

As she eyed the sidewalk traffic she leaned towards him and spoke quietly. "Pierre, Jade wants me to tell you that she is fine, and will be returning to work on Saturday."

Pierre relaxed a little. He had hoped that Manette would be able to tell him more about his friend. He already had a letter in his pocket from Jade that DuChant had given him earlier that day. It read:

**Dear Pierre, **

**Thank you for your kind attentions last Friday and Saturday. I have decided to follow your advice and spend time away from the Opera Populaire while I'm recovering from my illness. I will hopefully return on this coming Saturday. **

**Please don't worry about me. I am feeling much better and I am well cared for. **

**I will contact you again when I return to the opera house.**

**Jade**

"Where is she?" he asked as he gently pressed her hands.

Manette replied, "she is staying with my husband and me at our apartment. She will meet with you on Saturday. Please, I can say no more at this time. She told me to tell you that she will explain it when she sees you."

They walked back to the opera house, which loomed ahead. Its multicolored columns gleamed in the sunlight—a graceful embellishment to an otherwise massive structure.

A large cart rolled down the street and passed them with a rumbling of rough wheels on pavement. The driver was shouting at the horses that pulled the heavy load. The wind flattened their manes against tired faces as the whip cracked along their harnesses. As she watched that bleak picture, Manette shivered. Since the recent beating of the horse in the opera house stable, she had become more sensitive to the routine cruelties of the streets. She looked away and quickened her pace.

They crossed the Place de l'Opera, and ascended the stairs to the opera house. As they climbed the stairs, Pierre looked down at the lovely woman by his side, and wondered who the man was that she and Jade were hiding from.

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A little later, DuChant and Pierre sat in the sunny office, as they finished their lunch. It was Wednesday, the day of Pierre's weekly delivery to the opera café. Normally by now, Pierre would be heading back to his home instead of lingering in the opera house.

DuChant pulled out a bottle of brandy from a cabinet, and poured a couple of drinks. After handing one to his friend, he stretched his legs under the desk, and stared at the hefty paunch that he was developing. He looked like many men of his age and class, with excess settling around his waist. Glancing at Pierre, he noted his muscular build. The man was in his prime and very fit.

His friend was in love again. _Men are often foolish when they first fall in love, _he reflected. _And it can make them annoyingly persistent. _Pierre had spent the last part of the hour questioning him about Jade.

Talking about her reminded DuChant of the threatening note from the week before. Jade's explanatory note to him that the letter was from an impetuous admirer hadn't tempered his annoyance. She was beginning to feel like trouble. If it weren't for his friend's intense interest in her, he would have let her go.

DuChant glanced at his desk that was piled with requisitions and correspondence, and then looked to the outer office where his secretary sat hunched over another loaded down desk. Requests for supplies and services were pouring into his office. He was too busy to be concerned about one employee who wasn't even a principal. He was still searching for a music director. It was a fait accompli that Mme. Deschamps would continue to fill that role for this opera but it was his job to find someone for the next.

Sipping the fine brandy, he picked up the conversation where they had left off.

"I know as much as you do, Pierre. What's important is that Jade's feeling better. She has a good head on her shoulders, and she'll be back when she's ready."

Pierre slowly shook his head. "I don't think it's that simple, Jacque. Remember the note you showed me last Friday, the one that threatened you if you didn't release her from work? Whoever sent that to you might be pursuing her. She may have left because of him."

DuChant looked thoughtfully over Pierre's shoulder. An idea had come to him. There was something familiar about that anonymous note, but he couldn't place it. He shrugged his shoulders, and turned his attention to his friend.

"Well then, Pierre, we'll have to ask her when she returns, no? Until then, let's not make any assumptions."

Changing the subject, he asked, "And how are things with your family?"

Pierre's frown deepened. "Lucien has lost half his crop. The vines are failing from the blight."

DuChant whistled softly. Pierre's brother owned a vineyard near their childhood village, and it was his sole livelihood. The blight had infected the local vineyards seven years ago, but Lucien's vineyard had been spared until the year before last. And now it was finally happening.

The grape blight was destroying the lives of many French farmers. Vast tracts of land had become useless for wine production. As a result, people were leaving their communities and migrating to the cities and even to America. The blight had become a serious disaster for the French economy that rivaled the economic woes caused by the war of 1870.

DuChant gave his friend a sympathetic look.

"If he decides to leave the village, he can come here Pierre. I'll do what I can to help him find work."

Pierre nodded grimly. Then he emptied his brandy glass and took his leave.

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Jade lit ten candles and grouped them around the chair. The vivid pocket of light waxed and waned in the cool air of her room. _Ten tiny soldiers of illumination, _she mused. _Let them defeat any misunderstandings that may arise tonight. _

It was Friday evening and her first night back at the Opera Populaire.

The food was laid out on the table. There was no wine to serve since she could only afford a low quality one, which wasn't worth the price. She could have bought absinthe instead, but had decided against it. It lacked the complex flavor of wine, and merely deadened inhibitions. _A bad choice for tonight_, she concluded.

It was chilly and she wished she had a fireplace. The heat and the sweet smell of burning pine with its soft crackle would have comforted her nerves. It also would soften the atmosphere and evoke a receptive mood. Tonight she would need all the help she could get.

Sometime in the last week, Erik had been in her room. There was no evidence of malice but the cloak was gone. He had taken back his gift.

Glancing at the door, she thought of his smooth, and silent stride whenever he entered her room. How would he behave tonight? Would he be angry? Or would he be tolerant and gentle?

Jade opened the door and looked down the hallway. _Ten o'clock. Maybe he won't come tonight._

All week she'd been thinking of Erik. She'd sketched him in her mind, and remembered every detail of their time together. In the end, she'd concluded that beneath his distance and indifference was loneliness. Jade felt it because it echoed her own.

She opened the dresser and pulled out a wrap. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, she paused and took in her appearance. Her loose fitting robe with rolled up sleeves made her look dowdy and unattractive.

_There isn't a chance that he would entertain the same foolish feelings for me that I have for him. _With that thought, _s_he sighed with relief.She was still pondering the unexpected feelings she'd discovered earlier that week. The mere thought of being intimate with him was chilling.

But to become his friend, that's an entirely different matter.

Could they be friends? It would be difficult. He was very intelligent and sometimes kind. He was also impulsive, threatening, and someone who either didn't comprehend or didn't respect personal boundaries.

Tonight she would try, and see what would come of it.

Jade threw a wrap around her shoulders, and sat on the brightly lit chair as she waited. The oily smell of wax, and the shadow play on the walls were very relaxing. She was fully recovered from her illness of last week except for an inordinate need for sleep. The flickering light drained the tension from her mind, and after a half hour of waiting, her chin dropped to her chest and she fell fast asleep.

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Erik watched her from the mirror as she lit the candles.

She was building a tier of light around the chair and it caught his interest. What was she up to?

There was food for a guest and a floral arrangement on the table. Whoever she was waiting for, she was offering her best. Was it for the child? That might explain the array of candles. The light would please the little girl. However, it was late for her to be visiting.

He waited for her unknown visitor to arrive. After awhile, her head dipped and her chin rested upon her chest. No one came.

The boy that Jules had hired to watch the ballet teacher's apartment had reported that Jade had stayed inside the apartment the entire week.

_So, she obeyed my orders except for her willful Sunday trip, _he snorted. He was past the anger he had felt towards her on Monday, and was looking forward to seeing her again.

He left the passage, and walked to her room. Unlocking the door, he quietly slid inside and then locked it again.

Standing a couple of feet away, he examined her. Her breathing was regular and effortless without a hint of wheezing. Her color looked good and her skin was moist and healthy. She looked fully recovered from her illness.

He enjoyed being near her without her being aware of him. It was much better than watching her from the mirror. Her small hands were in her lap and her hair partially covered her face. It had grown since he had first seen her. Only an inch or so, but it was obvious by the way it hung around her shoulders, with the extra weight pulling down the mass above. It would be even more beautiful when it was long: a thick, straight, and glossy veil. How different it was from Christine's abundant curls.

_Christine. _It had been nearly a week since he had last thought of her. The woman in front of him was a welcome distraction.

Erik sat in the chair at the table and noticed the book he had lent her. Had she finished it yet? He had wanted to bring her a new one tonight. However, there was another matter that needed to be attended to first.

Leaning forward, he loudly cleared his throat, and she began to stir.

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Jade's eyelashes fluttered as she slowly turned her head and looked at the curtain of light shimmering to her left. Shapes swirled and coalesced, and then the black cape on her bed came into sharp focus. She blinked and slowly turned towards the table.

He was sitting next to the table with his right arm resting on it and his legs stretched out. He was looking directly at her, his face expressionless. They stared across the room at each other for a minute. Then his lips moved.

"Where did you go, Jade?" His voice was silky and low.

She held his gaze and replied. "I went to a friend's home."

"And whose home was that?" His voice was closer, but he hadn't moved from his chair. His expression was distant and detached.

Lowering her eyes, she answered quietly, "I can't tell you, Erik."

There was a loaded silence, and then he continued.

"You disobeyed me Jade." The voice was only a few feet in front of her. She felt her skin creep up at the eeriness of it since she knew he was in the chair.

"I know, and I am sorry for that."

"I find that difficult to believe." His voice was near enough that she expected to feel the warmth of his breath sweep her face.

"I would have stayed if I could, but I needed to go." She stared at her hands, and didn't hide her discomfort. _I must show what I am feeling if he is to trust me._

"And _why_ did you feel that need?" The voice in her ear was soft and seductive, with an undertone of threat. It felt like he was crawling into her head and was quite unnerving.

"Because, I needed to be alone." A few drops of sweat formed on her brow.

"Alone from **whom**, Jade?" The harshness of his voice startled her, and she inadvertently looked up.

He was standing in front of her with his face inches from her own.

"From you, Erik," she whispered. She lifted her chin up, and looked into his eyes. His stare pinned her to the chair, and her heart pounded in defiance.

Something flickered in Erik's eyes, and then he backed away very slowly as he held her gaze. She was hypnotized as her eyes followed him.

As his face gradually receded into the shadows, it seemed as if he were moving in slow motion. It stirred up a memory.

She was in a boat, and staring over its edge, and Jean-Luc was sinking into the water below. His eyes were open as he drifted deeper into the lake. Jade gripped the boat's edge and froze as she watched his descent. Then she was kneeling on the shore and trying to revive him. He lay there with his skin pale and cool, and his eyes closed. She slapped his face to awaken him and then shook him hard. His head flopped and hit the ground with a sickening thud as she fought down an overwhelming sense of uselessness and panic.

The faint buzzing in her head changed to a roar. Jade leaped from the chair, and pushed the memory away. She stumbled and then braced herself for the fall but instead of hitting the floor, strong hands pulled her up.

Erik's arms were clasped about her and holding her tightly. She was back in her room. The beach was gone and so was Jean-Luc.

She stared up into his face with blinking eyes. He was looking down at her with a slight frown and a startled look in his eyes.

Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed and then gently laid her on it. He reached down and brushed the hair from her forehead, and laid his hand there for a moment.

"You do not have a fever," he muttered. "Whatever possessed you to do that?"

Leaving her side, he returned in a moment with a cup of water. She sat up and took it from him.

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The rest of the evening was uneventful. Jade sat at the table, played with her food, and occasionally glanced up at Erik. She didn't feel like eating. Instead, she felt exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep and forget about the heartache that had been stirred up by her addled brain. She wanted to crawl into bed, and slip into oblivion.

Maybe she could excuse herself and ask Erik to lock the door when he was finished, and by the way, would he be so kind as to blow out the candles before he left? She shook her head at the absurdity. She really was losing her grip.

Looking up at him, their eyes met. _What does he think of me?_ she wondered.

She knew that he was watching her. A little earlier he had been menacing her with an odd trick of his voice. _Probably my punishment, _she thought dully as she poked at her food with a fork. And now he was sitting across from her and looking concerned. _What an up and down experience it is to be with him._

When it was time for him to leave, Erik paused at the door and looked back at her.

"Jade, you may return to your work in the opera house. However, it would be best if you waited a little longer before working in the stable. It is fine for you to go outside for a walk as long as you wear the proper clothing and do not get chilled."

She nodded briefly, and then began to blow out the candles.

Erik stood there a moment longer. Then he left and locked the door behind him.

Jade finally lay down and curled up under the covers. She thought of the soft cloak, which had been made for her. For some reason, it had become a comfort. She would miss it.

As she finally started to drift off, the three men in her life appeared: Erik, Pierre, and Jean-Luc.

They hovered near, and she felt strong arms holding her. Who they belonged to didn't matter anymore. She pushed her face deeper into the pillow and gave herself up to the comfort, as sleep eased her into its kind embrace.


	23. Chapter 23 Poetry

**Chapter 23 Poetry**

The chilled passages of the opera house were thick with dust and mold as Jade walked in the darkness. Now that she was acquainted with the Opera Ghost, she no longer feared these stone corridors.

As she approached the dim light ahead, the temperature dropped further. She wound her scarf snuggly around her throat, and pulled the cloak closer. Then she slipped on the warm gloves that Manette had given her, and stepped into the stable.

The morning's twilight dampened her senses as she walked through the central corridor that passed the stalls. Occasionally a hoof struck the floor and broke the stillness with a sharp sound. The closed stall doors protected the horses from the night's chill, and muffled the emphatic sighs of the sleeping animals.

She stopped outside the stallion's stall, and leaned against the wall. _It's been two weeks since I last saw him, _she reflected. The Saturday before last the horse had been uninjured and whole. But when she'd left the stable, before her illness had taken hold of her, his wounds had been fresh and raw. She remembered him as she saw him last—standing alone, with his head down, looking fragile and broken.

Jade dreaded what she would find and hesitated. Finally, she took in a deep breath, touched the crimped wood of the stall door, and swung open the upper part.

The stallion was standing inside with his head held high, and watching her with steady eyes. After a moment, he stretched his neck forward with his nostrils flaring, as he sought her scent.

She watched him as he slowly walked to the door. From the front, the wounds on his left side were barely visible. He was still beautiful.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out three lumps of sugar, which she lined up on the edge of the door. Then she backed away while humming her favorite childhood song, just as she had done two weeks before.

After a vigorous nod of recognition, he delicately picked up the sugar with his lips. Then he looked at her with soft eyes, and whinnied for more.

She smiled, and lightly touched his nose. As he looked down at her with his large, intelligent eyes, Jade shivered with pleasure.

Releasing the latch, she stepped into the stall. With great care, she moved past his side, and avoided the crisscrossed pattern of wounds. Glancing at them, she suddenly stopped, and stared with astonishment. Instead of the pearly pink of fresh scars, the wounds showed the beginnings of healthy new skin.

Without thinking, she touched one of the patches. The stallion trembled but didn't move away. Quickly, she looked up at him, and saw that he was watching her without fear or concern.

_Amazing!_

Someone had been there in her absence working with the horse so that he had lost his fierce wildness. Also, medicine had been applied to the wounds, and they were healing at an extraordinary rate.

_Erik. _

After carrying fresh water and oats to the stall, Jade watched him eat while she stroked his tangled mane. Erik hadn't groomed him. _If he had, that would have given him away, _she mused. She marveled at his entering the stable to care for the wounded animal and the risk that he took each time he was there.

At that moment, a new feeling for Erik arose: affection.

0000

The music from the auditorium rolled down the corridors, and lapped at the edges of the management offices. However, the workers inside were oblivious to the melodies. They were too busy moving to their own rhythms of the shuffling of papers and the scratching of pens.

Jade pushed her chair back from the small desk and stretched her back. She'd been hunched over the desk for the last few hours as she dealt with the hill of letters in front of her. Earlier that day, she had sorted and stacked requisitions and prioritized what would be dealt with first. Then she'd written replies until her hand became numb. Mme. Truffaut had done a heroic job of managing without her assistant but the workload had been enormous. Her new assistant, Michelle, was doing her best to deal with the paperwork, but she was still learning.

By the end of the workday, Jade's desk was cleared and stacks of paperwork were neatly arranged in boxes next to a pile of letters for the shops and suppliers. Mme. Truffaut had lost her sour look, which had been replaced with a satisfied air. She was even humming when she put on her cloak to leave.

As she was preparing to leave the office, Jade looked up as M. DuChant entered. He stopped, gave her a brusque nod with a penetrating look, and then passed by. As she watched his stiff figure disappear into his office, it was clear to her that she had lost some of her employer's good will.

Stepping out of the offices, she nearly ran into Pierre.

"How are you Jade?" asked Pierre as he took her hands and smiled broadly. He'd been waiting for this moment all week.

"Very well, Pierre. And how are you?" She smiled back at him and studied his face. In spite of his warm smile, he had a worried look about him. She squeezed his hands a little to reassure him.

"Much better, now that I see that you are yourself again. I came to invite you to join me for supper tonight."

"Of course. Gladly," she replied.

At the opera café they joined Manette, Jean, and Gillian. The café roared about them with everyone talking at once and people shouting back and forth. It was a warm bedlam of noise as the opera folk wound down from the hard work of the day.

Manette and Jean entertained them with stories about the ridiculous and laughable mishaps at rehearsal that day while Pierre joked with them, and tossed in anecdotes about his village and his day at the market. Jade listened silently as she held the little girl on her lap, and stroked her hair.

After dinner, Jade and Pierre strolled back to their quarters. Pierre was spending the night in Paris and would leave early in the morning. They stopped at his door.

"Jade, would you like to come in and have a glass of wine with me? We can keep the door open if you'd like. I'd like to talk with you a little longer."

He was looking down at her with warm eyes and a disarming smile. They hadn't talked privately yet, and she knew he was waiting for an explanation. He had glanced at her several times during the meal.

Nodding, she followed him into the room, and closed the door behind them.

Over a glass of wine, they talked about their week. Pierre had mentioned at supper that his brother was having trouble with the grape blight. Having seen first hand the devastation of the disease, she wondered if that was the reason Pierre had looked troubled before they went to supper.

"My two nephews are working for me now, and minding my home while I'm here, so that's why I can spend the night." He finished the last of his glass and poured another.

Jade was feeling very relaxed from the wine. Her fingers stroked her glass as she slowly traced Pierre's high cheekbones with her eyes. She noted how his unbound hair softly curled about his shoulders and gave him an appealingly, nonchalant look, like he had been lying in the grass.

Pulling herself out of her reverie, she focused on his concern. "What will your brother do? Will they come to Paris?" she asked.

"If he has to, Lucien will try Paris first. But he doesn't want to spend valuable money or time here if it doesn't show immediate promise. He's thinking about going to America, and starting a vineyard there. We've a distant relative in California who is buying land, and Lucien may be able to join him."

"America!" _So far away, _she thought.

Pierre sat back with his eyes half closed as he gazed at her. He had wanted to ask her about the man that she had been hiding from. But now he was content to simply sit with her and say nothing. Looking down at his glass, he idly swirled the deep red liquid.

Jade finally broke the silence.

"Pierre, I'd like to explain to you why I left the opera house."

"Yes. Please do." His eyes sharpened and he leaned towards her.

Carefully, she explained about the man who visited the opera house and who had been watching over her. She told him that she had kept her visit to Manette a secret because her benfactor might decide to visit her there, and she had wished to be alone.

Pierre watched her closely. She had told him a simple story but he knew that she had left out important details.

"Jade, is he the one who sent Jacque DuChant the letter about your needing time away from work?"

"Yes. He felt strongly that I needed to rest, and decided to take matters into his own hands and contact M. DuChant directly."

Nodding, he then gently asked her, "Is he forcing his attentions upon you?"

Giving him a steady look, she replied in a quiet voice, "He is a friend, Pierre. He was concerned about my lapse of judgment that caused me to become ill, and he decided to act as my temporary guardian."

_Please, let it rest, _she silently prayed. She felt compelled to protect Erik, but she wouldn't lie to Pierre. She owed him honesty.

Pierre studied his friend. It was clear that she didn't want him to press the issue. Something else was going on between Jade and that man. Perhaps she was simply protecting his identity. If so, it was selfish of him to put her in that position.

Covering her hands with his, he looked at her earnestly. "Jade, I hope that you will confide in me if you ever need my help, or my friendship."

He poured the remainder of the bottle into her glass. As she sipped it and felt its warmth flow through her, she felt a strong affection for Pierre bubble up. _His friendship has given me a new life here, _she mused. Tonight, she wanted to give something back.

Shifting in her chair, she fixed her eyes on his.

Noticing her intensity, Pierre set down his glass in expectation, and leaned towards her.

"Pierre, I'd like to tell you about my home…"

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An hour later, Jade was back in her room. She was sitting on her bed wrapped in her robe with her feet tucked under her. It had been a long full day and she was content. She was thinking about how good she felt whenever she was with Pierre. He had asked her if she would like to visit him in his village sometime in the next month. He wanted her to meet his family, and see his home.

Leaning back against the headboard, she smiled. It would be wonderful to return to the countryside, which she missed terribly. She daydreamed about what it would be like to live there again where the air was fresh and everything was green. She could see the stallion running through the grassy fields in the sunlight, with plump mares scattered about him.

She was deep in the image of him flying across the fields when she heard the lock move in the door. Quickly, she unfolded her legs and sat up straight as the door swung open and Erik strolled in.

He looked at her briefly, and then seated himself by the table in his customary spot.

Erik placed a book on the table, and looked up at her. Curious, Jade inadvertently leaned forward as she tried to see it better. Had he brought her another book to read? She wanted to get out of the bed and look but then decided that it would be better if she stayed where she was. She didn't want a repeat performance of last night. If there was the remotest possibility that he would have to pick her up again, she would rather stay in bed.

Since the stable, she'd been thinking about what she could give him as a token of her gratitude for taking care of the stallion. She knew so little about him and his tastes. Nor did she have much money. Her illness had cost her more than a week's wages and nearly all of her meager savings.

Erik sat silently for a minute, and then lit the remaining candles on the table. He picked up the book and thumbed through it. Without looking up, he asked, "Jade, do you by chance read English?"

Giving him a puzzled look she replied, "No, Erik. I only understand and speak French. Why do you ask?"

He _was _smiling, but so slyly she could barely see it. He looked a little smug sitting there and that only increased her curiosity. _What is he up to tonight? _Since he was busy asking her questions, it hopefully meant that he would not be playing any more tricks on her.

"Well, then I will have to read this instead of lending it to you. Do you like poetry, Jade?"

His dark hair appeared especially sleek and sparked the idea of a clever crow sitting in front of her, as he offered her a shiny piece of his world.

"I have heard so little of it that I can't really say. Are the Psalms from the bible a sort of poetry?" she asked.

Erik's smile grew slightly. "They are songs, but they have a poetic rhythm. In a broad sense they could be viewed as poetry." He thumbed through the book and appeared to be considering a selection.

"This poem is by Walt Whitman."

With a resonant voice, Erik intoned:

_**There was a child went forth every day;**_

_**And the first object he looked upon, that object he became;**_

Jade watched his face as he read. His eyes were intently fixed upon the page but his jaw and lips softened and the sternness vanished from his face. The words he recited were like a song. And they were beautiful, as was his voice.

_**The early lilacs became part of this child,**_

_**And grass, and white and red morning-gloried, and**_

_**white and red clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird**_

The images of the poem piled upon each other as snowflakes upon the ground, and Erik's voice was an angel's gliding on the wind.

_**And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below**_

_**there—and the beautiful curious liquid,**_

_**And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads—all**_

_**became part of him**_

While listening, Jade felt something powerful well up inside of her that blurred the boundary between them. His voice joined the song in her head, and pushed the melody aside. It silenced her music.

He continued to read, and she lost track of time as she drifted through the spell that he created.

Erik's reading of a simple shopping list would have been beautiful because of the richness and depth of his tones. Coupled with the poem, his voice was exquisite. She wondered what life would be like to awake each morning to it and to fall asleep at night with it whispering in her ear.

_**The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests,**_

_**slapping,**_

_**---the spread of purity it lies motionless in,**_

The poem ended, and the book closed with a snap. Jade opened her eyes.

Erik was watching her intently and there was an unreadable expression on his face.

Returning his gaze, she let her guard down. Her face was young and innocent, as she quietly waited for what would come next.

Erik picked up his chair, carried it to her bed, and set it down a few feet away. He sat straight with his legs casually crossed but his eyes were smoldering with curiosity.

"Jade, would you tell me about the music that you hear in your mind?"

Jade's eyes widened and her mouth opened. Then she quickly looked down at her knees that were hidden beneath her robe.

She swallowed hard. No one had asked her that question since Jean-Luc. Those who had thought her mad hadn't wanted to know. The few who had tried to manipulate her had assumed that they already knew.

Closing her eyes, she collected her thoughts. Then she looked into his eyes and commanded his attention.

"Tonight, it's a slow song that is like a waltz but with a somewhat different rhythm." She thought a moment, and then added, "it's soothing."

Erik nodded and then asked, "Is it a melody that you have heard before?"

Seeing that he was genuinely interested, she relaxed a bit more and replied, "No. I haven't heard this song before. Sometimes they return but usually it's a different song than the ones before." She thought for a moment, and then realized that maybe he was asking a different question. Jade offered, "The music that I hear isn't music that I've heard others play or sing."

Erik's eyes widened slightly at that revelation. _The music is her own composition._

"And the instruments, can you tell me about them?" He was leaning forward and there was a hint of excitement on his face.

Jade closed her eyes and for a moment swayed to the rhythm. "There are strings and woodwinds, and cymbals. There's another instrument that I don't know the name of."

_An unknown instrument?_ Erik was fascinated.

Opening her eyes, she gave Erik an intense look. Then closing them again, she turned her head away from him. It was hard for her to focus on the music in this way, and she wanted to stop.

Erik sat silently at her side. Even when seated, he was remarkably taller than her and he loomed like a sentinel beside her bed. They had crossed into unexplored territory with his questions, and Jade was feeling vulnerable again.

At last he rose, and walked over to the table where he picked up his book and extinguished the candles. She heard the swish of his cape as he put it on in the dark. The door opened, and his silhouette momentarily filled its frame. Then the door closed and the sound of the key turning in the lock was the last she heard of him.

Jade got up and pulled out her cloak, and laid it on her bed. It was cold tonight. She had been completely caught up in Erik's reading, and hadn't noticed that her nose was getting chilled. Erik had also apparently forgotten the cold. He usually wore his cloak when he was in her room but tonight he'd laid it aside. It seemed as if he had been reading for an hour but it was probably less. The sound of his voice had made her a little drunk. The longer he had read to her, the more deeply relaxed she had become.

She lay on her side and stared at the wall for only a few minutes before sleep came hard and fast to her. Before she tumbled into unconsciousness, she remembered Erik's eyes looking at her with a touch of wonder, and she knew that her gift to him had been well received.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Erik guided the boat across the black lake with long, sure strokes. He stared ahead, feeling the excitement coursing through his body. He was reliving tonight's triumph.

He had succeeded. She had opened up to him completely. The trust had shone on her face and at that moment, she was his.

Seeing her receptivity, he had seized the opportunity and gently explored her secret. What he had discovered was exhilarating: an original mind akin to his own.

The boat touched the shore and he jumped from it. He entered his home and lit dozens of candles to replace those that had burned out in his absence. Then he walked about his rooms, and took stock of his dwelling. His home was beautiful. However, it was buried beneath the opera house, without a trace of sunlight.

Standing in the door, he peered into the black cavern. He loved the darkness. The first time he had brought Christine here, she had loved it too. He had seen it in her eyes. But that wonder had been destroyed when she had torn away his mask.

_I will not allow that to happen again, _he thought grimly. _When I bring her here, I will be on my guard against foolish curiosity._

His rival lived where there were sunlight and green fields. He and Jade shared a kinship of being raised in the country. As Erik had stood by the mirror and watched, he had not been able to see her face when she told the man her story. But he had heard the longing in her voice as she talked about her home. If the farmer offered her a new home in his village, she might accept.

Touching the books that lay on his work table, he glanced at the organ. He had many ways to capture her imagination. He could make this a place of wonder for her. It would be easier with her than it had been with Christine. Jade was not a child who feared what she didn't understand. Her spirit was bolder, her imagination deeper. He simply needed time to convince her.

Staring at his reflection, he considered how his face had scarcely aged in the last year. Christine had once found him handsome.

He knew how to play his advantages. He would take every scrap of understanding, every ounce of emotional warmth that was generated between them and would use it.

He would keep her here, in his opera house.

Pulling out music paper, Erik scribbled a pattern of notes, crossed them out, and continued. He worked the puzzle for an hour before he went to bed. _Woodwinds, strings, and cymbals and an unknown instrument, _he reflected. _A melody that sounds like a waltz but is not. Soothing. Yes. That is the key. _

By the time he was finished he was ready for sleep. He rolled up the papers, and stacked them in the corner. Then he walked to his bedroom and disappeared into the darkness.

**

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**A/N: dear readers, to those of you who are regularly reviewing, I'm happy that you're taking the time to leave a comment. Your encouragement and critiques do help. I'm new to writing fiction and each chapter takes time. It feels great when I get one done, and even better when I get reviews. **

**Special thanks to readers who are posting my story as one of your favorites. It helps new readers find my story.**


	24. Chapter 24 Comfort

**Chapter 24 Comfort**

The little ballerinas seated at the large table were giggling as they handed the trinkets to each other. Their hands were full of shiny costume jewelry, and brightly colored ribbons. Some of them were lucky enough to have a new dress for opening night. The descriptions of each other's dresses enchanted the older girls, and they squealed with delight whenever a choice bit of fashion was presented.

Sometimes they would pause and glance at their ballet teacher, Mme. Dubois who was sitting at the end of the table and talking with her friend. Mme. Dubois was beautiful and stylish, and her husband was charming, handsome, and a gentleman. All the girls wanted to be like Manette Dubois.

As the girls chattered away, Manette was speaking earnestly to Jade. She was trying to persuade her to agree with her on an important matter.

"Jade, you must come. It will be a charming party. Verdi and his wife will be attending since it will be given in their honor. Please, both Jean and I would like to have you there with us."

Jade looked skeptically at Manette. She didn't understand why this was so important to her friend. A party on the evening following opening night, with Verdi and others wasn't an event that she would feel comfortable at. She lacked the clothes and social skills that would be necessary for her to fit in. Why bother? _It just doesn't make sense._

She shook her head no for the second time.

But Manette persisted, and wouldn't accept a refusal. Their invitation allowed them to bring guests, and she was determined that her friend would be one of them. Patiently, she asked, "What else do you have to wear besides your work clothes?"

Jade shot back, "Nothing. Just my stable outfit." _There, _she thought with relief. _That should put an end to it._

Manette looked at her with vague horror. "You mean you have nothing to wear for opening night?"

"No, I don't. Nothing." Jade shrugged. She was hopeless and it was time for Manette to realize that.

Eyeing her friend for a moment, Manette continued. "My sister is about your size. I think she would be willing to give me one of her dresses, which we could alter for you. I'll contact her tomorrow."

Jade stared at her with dismay. Manette's determination had acquired a nightmarish quality and was completely out of character.

Giving Manette a long serious look, she said in no nonsense voice, "Manette, I will not wear a corset, and I will not wear a 'fashionable dress'. I do not care for either of them."

Manette sat back and her jaw set in a stubborn line. It was a look that Jean would have recognized but was new to Jade. She replied, "Well then my dear, we shall have to find an 'unfashionable' dress for you."

0000

Later that day, Jade was brushing the chestnut gelding when Jean stopped by the stable with Gillian in tow. He leaned on the lower half of the door and gave her a big smile.

"I hear you will be going to the party with us." He chuckled as he waited for her reaction.

Jade frowned slightly.

Jean picked up Gillian and swung her over the gate and then strolled in behind her. He had a devilish smile and was enjoying pestering the woman. He had firm instructions from his wife to 'convince her' but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun while he was doing it.

The little girl stood timidly at the door, and looked up at the enormous horse in front of her. The chestnut noticed her too and turning his head, he nickered softly as if inviting her to come closer.

Jade noticed the interaction of the child and horse and ignored Jean. She put out her hand to the girl and beckoned her to come closer. "He likes you Gillian," she said. "I can tell."

Gillian took a step forward and then hesitated. _He's as big as an elephant, _she thought with trepidation.

Picking up the child, she carried her to the horse. As she held her on her hip, Jade stroked the gelding, who was watching the child with intense interest. It was obvious to her that he had been around children before.

Gillian tentatively reached out and touched his neck and then smiled at Jade. "He's soft," she said with pleasure.

After watching the gentle interactions between horse, woman, and child, Jean abandoned his teasing.

"Jade, I know you will enjoy meeting Verdi. I've spoken with him and he is a fine old gentleman. And I hear his wife is extraordinary. I believe that they would enjoy meeting you as well. Would you do me the honor of accompanying us?" He stood there with his hands in his pockets and a boyishly appealing smile on his face.

She put down Gillian who had suddenly become quite taken with the horse, and turned to her friend. "Jean, I don't think I would fit in. And I'm not comfortable wearing a stylish dress. Please don't tell this to Manette, but I'd feel very foolish in one." She shrugged her shoulders.

Jean gave her a steady look. He could see her point but he still wanted her to join them. She needed to get out more, and away from the opera house. He wanted to help with that.

"I understand. I think most of what women wear is rather foolish. But I think that between Manette, and a friend of ours in the costume department, and myself, we can put something together for you that you will be comfortable in. And I promise you that if you are willing to stay for an hour, I will arrange for a carriage to take you home afterwards."

Jade looked at him and sighed deeply. She was losing.

0000

After supper Jade sat in her room and studied the designs that Jean had drawn. He had provided several choices for a dress, and had done his best to keep it simple. None of them would need a corset.

It was nearly seven o'clock, and she still had several hours before retiring for the night. She was finally past the point of needing extra hours of sleep. Today she'd spent the afternoon working with the horses, and her body felt relaxed and strong.

Picking up her novel, she paged through it to a favorite passage—a fiery dialogue between Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester that always made her tingle. When she was finished, she restlessly paced the room. She hadn't seen Erik since Saturday night and wondered if something had happened to him. Oddly enough, she actually missed his impromptu, semi-invasive visits, and was tempted to walk in the back passages, which might provoke his appearance.

It was strange how he'd known that she had music playing in her mind. She did her best to hide if from others. But then, he wasn't like other people.

Jade went to the wardrobe and pulled out her cloak. A walk by the river was what she needed tonight to take care of her restlessness. She threw it over her shoulders and then went to the table to blow out the candle. Glancing at the designs, she shuddered at the thought of wearing one. _I will be a misfit there. Out of step with those around me. I'll just have to keep my mouth shut and stay out of the way, and then maybe people won't notice me._

Unlocking the door, she opened it, and reached up to extinguish the gaslight on the wall.

Erik was suddenly there, looming over her. Startled, she jumped. He gave her a brusque nod and entered the room.

Jade closed the door behind her and looked in his direction. He was sitting at the table rifling through Jean's designs.

"What are these?" he demanded with a cool tone. He turned to her, and held the sheets in his gloved hands. His face was expressionless.

"Those are possible designs for a dress that a friend is making for me," she replied, as she walked to the table. An idea had come to her. Perhaps Erik could help. She pulled her chair closer to his, and picked up one of the sketches.

Holding it away from her, she tried to view it with fresh eyes. "I think that this may be the best of them." She laid the sheet on the table in front of him, and waited for his comment.

Erik promptly covered it with the rest of the sketches. "They are amateurish and completely unsuitable for you," he said with contempt. Then he got up and stood before the mirror.

Jade glanced up at him and caught her breath. His black cape hung perfectly on his shoulders and draped to the floor. She could see the reflection of his face faintly shining back from the mirror, hovering above his right shoulder. As she watched him, she felt a tiny ache inside and an odd sense of peace that he was back in her room. For the briefest moment, she felt that he belonged to her.

And then he spun around to face her with his cape floating backwards in a dramatic flare. As his cool eyes fixed on hers, she realized that the man before her could belong to no one. He was a force of nature and too wild to be owned.

Erik stared into her eyes for a moment, and she lifted her chin and stared back.

"You were preparing to leave?" he inquired with a smooth voice. His apparent indifference held a trace of curiosity.

"Yes. I was about to go for a walk," she replied.

"Would you allow me to accompany you?" he casually asked.

Jade was surprised by his unprecedented request, and found herself nodding yes.

Erik quickly led them through the hall that went to the back passages. Once inside, they walked towards the stable. It wasn't a direct route to the river, but she'd already given up on that idea. She assumed that they were going to a place more private, probably to the bridle path where they were less likely to encounter people. Walking the familiar passages with him by her side, she felt a rising excitement. She remembered when he had carried her through the hidden passages from box five to the offices. Glancing at his dark form, she noticed that his steps were light, and nearly silent. She wondered how he had slipped up that one night when he had followed her in these passages. The incident seemed a long time ago.

They passed into the stable and then out the door to the street beyond. Outside the entrance was a waiting carriage.

Stopping, Jade looked at him with suspicion. Suddenly, she wasn't sure if he could be trusted. He'd already had something planned before he came to her, and had been leading her around as if it were a spontaneous idea.

Erik read her doubts. "Jade, I have a surprise for you this evening." He looked down at her with a slight smile. Opening the carriage door, he offered her his hand.

He was standing there with his fine clothes and the mask hidden by the hood of his cloak. His face had that youthful look that she had seen in the stable, which made him seem much closer to her in age. And his eyes looked right through her. She shivered in anticipation, and took his hand.

The streets were lit up with pedestrians and carriages all around them. Occasionally they passed a building that drew a comment from Erik. He would describe the type of architecture and the underpinnings of the building. His explanations flowed effortlessly, and were simple enough for her to comprehend. Nor were they intellectually dry or pompous. His voice was animated and he appeared to relish the subject. He was introducing her to something he cherished, and once again, she felt like a favored pupil guided by a brilliant teacher.

The carriage ride lasted for close to an hour, and had a fairytale quality to it. Then the carriage slowed and the clip clop of the horse's feet lazily struck the pavement until they came to a gentle halt.

Erik exited the carriage and again offered her his hand.

Stepping from the carriage, she saw a large stone church. The moonlight that spilled from the sky painted it with a milky light. Erik released her hand, and Jade looked up at him with questioning eyes.

He led her to a side door that was unlocked, and then into the church.

Inside, the church had the hollow, hushed feeling that she was familiar with. Large candles placed at the sides of the altar formed a sphere of light. To the right was a massive organ surrounded by candelabras that cast a shadow on the nearby wall.

Jade genuflected before the altar, and crossed herself in respect for the unseen presence. She looked up at Erik who was by her side. He was coolly watching her, and she noticed that he had not genuflected. _Perhaps he is a protestant, _she thought. _But if so, then what are we doing here?_

Turning away, he pointed to a pew that was a half a dozen rows from the organ. "That will be the best place for you to sit," he said. He looked down at her puzzled face and then explained. "Jade, I would like to play for you tonight. I have permission from the priest of this church to use the organ. It was he who instructed that the door be left unlocked for us."

Erik motioned towards the pew and then turned towards the organ. He removed his cape, and sat on the bench before the instrument.

Jade sat in the amber shadows, at the edge of the candlelight, and watched Erik's still face as he prepared to play.

The music started slowly. It was sweet and clear, like the sounds of her childhood. Then it gradually grew in its intensity as it rose and fell in waves.

She watched Erik as the music rolled from his fingertips. At first, what she saw was him making the music: the movements of his shoulders, the arching of his back. She followed his rhythms and matched them with those of the melody.

Then it changed. She thought it was a trick of the candlelight when she saw him fuse with the music. The lines of his body blurred, and he seemed to disappear. What remained was a dark shadow that ebbed and flowed with the waves of sound.

She shut her eyes and the music crept into her and rivaled the tune that was already in her head. Sitting in that great room, she _felt_ the music: it settled into her flesh, and coursed through her blood.

Like his voice, his music was spellbinding and added a new dimension to her world. She had never heard music so utterly complete, except for that in her mind. She smiled softly and welcomed it.

He had been playing for nearly an hour when suddenly, a sharp and angry voice boomed from the area of the altar. The music stopped.

Jade opened her eyes and saw a priest standing on the steps as he faced Erik.

"How did you get in here?" he shouted. "This is not a performance hall. Leave at once!" The priest rose to his full height as he angrily approached Erik.

Erik stood up, and in a flash was next to the man. He grabbed him by the throat and with one large swoop pinned him to the side of the organ. Erik's head slowly bent over the priest's whose eyes bugged out from fear and pain.

Jumping from her seat, Jade ran to the men. When she got there, she saw an enraged Erik who had murder in his eyes.

"For the love of God, have mercy," pleaded the man.

Erik retorted in a low voice of pure hatred that sent a chill through Jade. "I am not familiar with that virtue. Your god has shown me little of it."

In a panic, Jade cried out, "Erik, let him go! Don't torture him."

Erik slowly turned to Jade, and looked at her as if she were a ghost. The blood lust drained from his face and he released the man.

The priest fell to his knees with his hands at his throat. Jade bent over him and looked into his face. "Are you alright, father?" The man nodded, and then glanced up at Erik who stood next to the organ. The look of terror returned to his eyes.

Jade stayed close to him, afraid that he might pass out. "Please father, say something," she coaxed.

He croaked, "Thank you." She sighed with relief. His voice box hadn't been shattered.

Looking up, she saw that Erik was gone and the church door was open.

Moments later, Jade left the church with an intense feeling of guilt. She wanted to stay behind and tend to the priest but she also felt that it would be best for both Erik and her if they quickly disappeared.

Reaching the waiting carriage, she climbed in and it sped away.

As the carriage moved through the streets, Jade watched the silent man that was sitting across from her. Erik was turned to the left and was looking out the window. She thought that it was not coincidental that the white mask was presented to her while the rest of his face was hidden. What had happened in the church with the priest had caused Erik to withdraw into a Mount Everest of distance and emotional coldness. She could feel its chill as surely as if she had dipped her arms into ice water.

The goose bumps crawled up her arms as she tried to control her fear. The murderous Opera Ghost had returned.

She recalled the story that Pierre had told her the day before she met Erik. _He hung a man in the middle of a performance. _Had that man's offense been greater than that of the priest?

Jade struggled with her feelings. _He's a dangerous man, _part of her cried. _You are riding with a murderer. Why did you expect a walk in the park with him?_

It was true. He was dangerous. She'd never forgotten that. She'd just put it aside for tonight. She'd been taken in enough by his intelligence and his occasional tenderness to believe that he was in control of that side of himself, and that maybe it would not show except under extreme circumstances.

But tonight, he'd been out of control. _The punishment didn't fit the crime,_ she thought.If she hadn't been there, he might have crushed the man's throat.

Her gaze fell from the cold white mask and lingered on his hands. They were the hands of an artist and a healer. She remembered how they had tended the stallion with extraordinary gentleness. They were beautiful, like his eyes, and his voice and his music. There was a great deal that was beautiful about the man who was sitting across from her.

_Erik, _she thought, _what happened to you? The mask. Is that what damaged you?_

Gazing at him, she tried to imagine what it would be like to carry one's difference on the surface rather than inside. She had been able to hide hers most of the time. She knew what it was like to feel intensely alone. It could drive one mad.

She'd been fortunate. At critical times in her life, when she'd needed it the most, someone had stepped out of the darkness and given her the kindness that she needed to go on. The hardness of her life had made her suspicious, but it had never damaged her heart with hatred.

Then a voice inside of her head challenged that thought. _Are you sure? Remember, there is something that you can't remember. Perhaps you aren't as pure as you think._

She shut out the taunting in her mind, as she looked hard at the man seated across from her.

They rode in silence. As Jade sat back in her seat, and stared at the white mask, the memories tumbled through her mind: the stallion, the gifts, the poetry, her illness. Her life had become entwined with this man's. And after tonight, she believed that it was _his_ music she had heard in her mind when she had first seen the opera house more than a month ago. He was part of her destiny: the destiny she had embraced willingly when Pierre led her to the Opera Populaire.

In the darkness of the carriage, her hand slowly moved across the void between them and rested on his hand. She watched his mouth, which was free of the mask, and saw it lightly twitch when he felt her touch. Erik turned to her.

The hatred was gone from his face, as well as the anger. Instead, in spite of the control he exerted, his eyes showed pain and despair. Whatever his demons had done to him in that church, the damage was still there.

Jade cupped his hand between hers and looked into his eyes. In the dim light her eyes appeared larger and deeper, like a pond with hidden depths. He stared into them and she saw his tension gradually ease. His mouth opened slightly as his face relaxed. She glanced at his soft lips and then focused upon his eyes, as she gave her peace to him.

After a few minutes, Erik loosened his hand from hers and then gently placed hers within his.

They rode the rest of the way to the opera house holding each other's hands. After a while, Jade's became numb but she ignored the sensation. For that brief journey, she would be his anchor and hold him fast.

The carriage stopped at the stable entrance. They left it behind and entered the back passages.

They came to the door that led to the staff quarters. It was the door that Jade had fled through weeks before when she had heard the scuff of a foot in that black corridor. Now she stood next to the man who had followed her in the darkness.

She quietly opened the door, and turned back to say good-bye. But it was too late, for he was already gone.


	25. Chapter 25 Confessions

**A/N: the references in this chapter to Nadir and Persia come from Susan Kay's book 'Phantom'. The book has recently been republished and is now available. **

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**Chapter 25 Confessions**

Jade awoke before the dawn. Lighting a candle, she quickly put on her stable clothes. Now that opening night was only a week away, she was spending all of her time in the office and none in the stable. If she hurried, she would have time for a workout.

Running through the back passages, she quickly arrived at the stable. After selecting a halter, she softly whistled to the black stallion that eagerly came to the door. Briskly, she brushed his wide belly and back and minutes later they were out on the bridle path.

She rode him hard. It didn't matter what time of day it was, the black always wanted to run. It was one of the reasons Rascon hated to exercise him—he fought any rider who tried to rein him in. For that reason, he was a perfect mount on that morning. She would need to stay focused, without meandering thoughts. Her mind would be clear of musings that would lead to last night and Erik.

Jade felt secure on top of the big horse as they rushed down the path. Her hair whipped into her eyes and tears flew from their corners. Riding was good medicine, imparting certainty and confidence. Life was always simpler on a horse. People, on the other hand, were much too complicated.

After the work out, she rode back to the stable and watched the sunrise. Its glow spilled over the horizon and opened up distant vistas with clear light. As she watched the sun take the first steps of its inevitable journey and plant itself into the sky, it gave her a feeling of hope.

Tonight she would join Pierre for supper, with Manette, and Jean. They would be dining out at one of the local cafés, a quaint little place that was one of Jean's favorites.

Back at the stable, Jade put away the gear and fed the horse. Then she ran back up the passages to her room. If she hurried, she'd still be able to get breakfast.

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Later that morning, Mme.Truffaut stepped from DuChant's office and sat down behind her desk.

"Well, he's gone," she declared.

Jade looked up and waited. Mme. Truffaut wasn't a gossip like some of the other opera workers, but now and then she'd reveal an important piece of news to her staff.

The older woman gave her two employees a serious look. "Meley's dead."

A hollow feeling suddenly appeared in Jade's stomach. "How?" she asked.

"He died in his sleep, last night. He'd been unconscious for the last three days." The usually stern faced woman had a thoughtful look as she turned her eyes on Jade.

"Where will the funeral be held?" Jade asked quietly.

Mme. Truffaut nodded with a knowing air. "It will be at his family's parish, and it will be worth attending. M. DuChant and the Deschamps will be there, as well as many of the important artists and patrons of the city. Meley made a name for himself in Paris."

Rising, Jade donned her cloak, and left the office to see to the morning deliveries.

A couple hours later she sat in the opera café and stared at a plate of food. The nausea that had begun on hearing of Meley's death was churning through her gut, leaving no room for lunch.

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At the end of the day, Jade walked quickly along the streets. She had left a note for Pierre saying that she would meet him and her other friends at the café. Before she could go, there was something that she needed to do.

The small church sat between tall, newer buildings. Somehow, it had escaped the wholesale decimation of the previous decade, when Napoleon the Third's housing ministry had directed the destruction of many Parisian buildings. Perhaps an influential family had saved the church by a well-placed word to the right bureaucrat. Erik had told her about that period of so-called architectural renewal with icy contempt. He had seemed to take that massive project as a personal insult.

The inside of the church was alight with candles. In the stillness, a dozen people were lined up in two pews near the confessional, as they waited their turns. Jade joined them, and sat quietly as she watched the soft flicker of candles surrounding the altar. The church organ was much smaller than the one Erik had played on last night. Looking at the instrument, she couldn't help but think of the stricken priest that she had left behind.

The confessional was solidly built, and the person closest to it could only hear the slightest murmur from those within. She was relieved that there would be privacy.

When it was her turn, she entered the box and shut the door. Kneeling at the small grated window, she quietly recited, "Bless me father for I have sinned. My last confession was one month ago."

She paused and a signal from the priest's hand told her to go on.

"Father, last night I was in a church with a man. He said that he had the priest's permission to be there in order for him to play the organ. However, after awhile, a priest found us there and told us to leave. The man attacked the priest and I stopped him. I wish to confess my sin of being there with that man in the church, and of not helping the priest afterwards."

There was silence and then the priest spoke.

"Did you know if the priest was seriously injured by the man?" His voice was calm but there was tension beneath.

"The man grabbed him by the throat, but afterwards, he could speak. I believe he was frightened but not seriously harmed," Jade replied. Then she continued. "Father, do you know anything about this? Do you know how the priest is faring?" There was worry in her voice.

After a long pause, the priest answered. "I know of the priest that you speak of. He is uninjured." Then, after a moment, he asked, "Where is the man who attacked him?"

Jade had anticipated that question and was prepared. "I don't know where he lives. We took a carriage from my home to the church, and he left me at my home afterwards. His visits are unexpected. I never know when I'll see him."

She hesitated, and then spoke again. "Father, there is something else."

"Yes. Go on, my child."

"Today, a man from my work place died. He was attacked several weeks ago and severely injured." She paused, unsure how to proceed. The priest cleared his throat, and she could feel him hanging on her words.

"I think I was there, but I don't remember it happening. I've had nightmares since then."

The priest cleared his throat again, and asked, "Was the man you were with last night responsible?"

Jade gripped the armrest as she considered her answer. She'd been struggling with that question all day. Had it been Erik who had attacked Meley? Up until last night, she hadn't seriously considered it. As frightening as Erik had been when she had first met him, she hadn't thought that he was responsible for the attack. But now she was unsure. The man who she saw last night would have killed Meley for trying to beat a horse to death.

Jade answered him. "I don't know father. I believe he has goodness in his heart, but when he is provoked, he loses his way. I dare not judge him."

The priest was silent for a minute, and then finally spoke. "You had no part in either attack. You assisted the priest when he needed you. You are blameless, with the possible exception of your association with this man. Is he a Catholic? Can you bring him to church?"

Jade pondered that question, and remembered how Erik had looked at her last night when she genuflected before the altar. And there were the words he spoke to the priest: "mercy…your god has shown me little of it." Yes, it was very possible that Erik was a Catholic.

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At the café, Pierre, Jean, and Manette waited for Jade to join them. Jean was looking through a book of sketches, as Manette and he drank absinthe.

Manette made a face as she sipped her drink. " I do not think I will ever get accustomed to the taste of this vile liquid."

Laughing, Jean turned to Pierre with raised eyebrows and said, "As you can see, Pierre, my wife does not have an amicable relationship with the Green Fairy." He took another sip of the opaque liquid in his glass, and gave Manette a wry smile.

Pierre watched them without amusement. Up until this year, his family had been untouched by the poor harvest caused by the grape blight. Lucien's vineyard had produced an abundance of good quality wine. But soon that would be over. It was hard for him to imagine drinking that green, bitter tasting liquid that was now being offered as a substitute for wine at cafés throughout Paris.

Jade walked into the café and Pierre raised his arm to her.

The food on their plates was well prepared and they ate with gusto, except for Jade. The sight and smell of food made her nauseous. She nibbled on her bread and sipped the water. It was all she could keep down.

Pierre watched her with a slight frown as she avoided her food.

Jean secretly poked Manette with his elbow and then turned to Jade. "Jade, I've arranged for you to meet with our friend tomorrow after work so that she can measure you for your dress." He turned and smiled mischievously at Manette, who was smiling warmly at Jade.

Jade looked at her friends and dropped the piece of bread she'd been trying to force down. The thought of the dress prompted an intense wave of nausea.

"What dress is that?" Pierre asked gently as he looked at Jade with concern. She just shook her head and looked away from her plate.

"It's for the party next Saturday night. Jade's coming with us." Jean said evenly. His teasing had stopped, and he was watching Jade with curiosity.

They left the café together and walked a few blocks down the street, until it was time for them to part. Jean and Manette went towards their home, and Pierre and Jade headed back to the opera house.

The cool, night air and the emptiness of her stomach decreased Jade's nausea. Pierre's kind voice droned in her ear as he talked about his week. She felt sleepy as they walked, and looked forward to her bed.

Pierre walked beside her, concerned and frustrated. He had waited all week for this time with her and now she was silent and possibly ill. Had she seen the man that she had spoken to him about, her benefactor? He had questions that he wanted to ask her about him, and it didn't look as if that would be happening tonight.

Walking to their rooms, they stopped outside of Pierre's door. Sleepily, Jade looked up at him with her eyes drooping. Suddenly, Pierre reached down and gently taking hold of her shoulders, leaned over and brushed his lips across her forehead. Then he looked intently into her eyes and murmured goodnight.

Jade stared back at him, wide-awake, nausea forgotten.

They gazed at each other for a few moments, and Jade finally said softly, "Goodnight, Pierre. Sleep well."

Later, when she was back in her bed, she thought about Pierre's kiss. _So, it has come. _It was as she had expected it would be. He was gentle, respectful, and patient. Very patient.

Jade was suddenly bone tired and needed to sleep. She didn't want her life to be more complicated than it already was. She'd spent the day trying not to think about Erik, and here was another twist. She would have to think about Pierre tomorrow when she was clear headed, and no longer sick.

Lying down made the nausea worse. She rolled onto one side and then shifted to the other as she tried to find a position that she could get comfortable in. After an hour, she got up and got dressed. She was tired of being sick, and knew that tonight there would be nightmares as well. It was time to do something about this.

She left her room and carried a lantern, as she walked through the halls of the drafty opera house.

The corridors were long and empty. She felt like a specter haunting the place as she silently passed the many rooms. Eventually she arrived at the Grand Foyer and the great staircase that led to the boxes on the floors above. She climbed the stepd and searched for box five. When she found it, it was pitch black inside. The auditorium below was unlit and abandoned.

Jade touched the pillar that was at the back of the box. It was through there that he had carried her to the secret passage beyond. She ran her fingers along the smooth surface, and searched for a line that would reveal the hidden door. There was nothing, but she continued to search. She followed an imaginary line that ran along the circumference of the pillar, and pressed on every inch of it. _It's simply a matter of applying the correct amount of pressure when I find the door's edge, _she thought.

When she finished the first line she started the next a scant distance above the previous one. After a couple dozen tries, she heard a faint grating noise, and the door opened.

Cool air met her as she entered the passage. She stepped in and shut the door behind her.

Jade held out the lantern and descended the passageway. The stones beneath her feet were roughly cut, but the walls were surprisingly smooth. The space was narrow, just wide enough to allow the passage of a big man.

After awhile, she arrived at a junction where the passage ended and joined another forming a T. She chose the left branch of the corridor that continued downward, as she followed the cool air.

The excitement of exploration quieted her upset stomach. As she walked, she wondered what part of the opera house was on the other side of the wall. Did Erik regularly use this part of the passages or would she have to get closer to the staff quarters?

_Either way, _she thought,_ I will eventually find him or he will find me._

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Earlier that same day, Erik lay in his spacious bed. He had dreamt about her during the night: the light swish of her skirt brushing the steps of the carriage as she stepped out towards him, her green eyes piercing his with a question.

He was lying on his back and watching the paintings on the ceiling shift in the candlelight. The exotic figures wriggled in the lazy haze of smoke that crossed their bold outlines.

Narrowing his eyes, he remembered last night.

He thought he had lost her.

Her panicked voice begging for the priest had cut through him and shaken him out of his fury. _Don't torture him, _she had cried.

The word _torture _had stopped him. Then the memories bit into him: the time spent in Persia and the device that he had designed that had killed innocent men and women. It had been the child of his imagination. When he had left the country, Nadir had forced a promise from him, that he would not kill again unless in self-defense.

Erik had briefly watched Jade tend to the priest, and then had left. As he waited for her in the carriage, he had wondered if she would come. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had stayed behind. She had seen the brute in him.

Later, when she sat across from him on the trip back to the opera house, he had looked away, afraid of what he would see in her eyes.

_Damn that priest!_

It galled him that he had had to take her there. _A church, of all places! _He had nearly groaned when Jules had first suggested it. But she wasn't ready to come to his home, so he had needed to take her somewhere else in order to play for her. It had been carefully planned. Jules had made the payment to the priest and arranged the details.

The performance was meant to capture her imagination and to draw her to him. He was laying the groundwork for a deeper trust. Instead, it had been a fiasco. She had seen him attack what she revered.

Erik shut his eyes and relaxed into the bed's kind folds. The softness cradled him as he crossed his arms behind his head. He sighed deeply with satisfaction and smiled.

Instead of shunning him, she had touched him.

He could still see her face from the shadowy moonlit carriage. Her eyes had emerged from the darkness and held his in a compelling gaze, and he had forgotten his despair. Then she had firmly held his hands, and the moment of their intimacy was complete.

Later, as they stood in the corridor by the door, he had wanted to touch her, to put his hands around her waist and pull her to him. Instead, he had left. She was again his, and he would handle her gently, delicately, so that he could keep her. He would have to be satisfied with their contact in the carriage, until another time.

He was a patient man. He knew how to wait.

Erik opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling again. Today the colors of the mural were brighter and richer than they had been before. Perhaps it was a trick of his senses but the entire room seemed to be dancing with color.

Rising, he dressed and prepared for the day. He was eager to get started. First, he needed to see Jules and find out what had gone wrong in that damnable church.

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Jules and Erik stared across the desk at each other in the office.

"What made that fool think he could interfere?" Erik inquired with an icy voice.

Jules was silent as he gauged Erik's anger. He appeared to be calmer than Jules had expected. Still, it would be wise to proceed cautiously.

The man whom Erik had attacked was a visiting priest who had come unexpectedly early. He had arrived yesterday afternoon instead of today.

"The parish priest that I dealt with left the church yesterday morning, and was visiting a sick relative," replied Jules. "Evidently that other fellow thought it was his duty to take charge of what appeared to be an unorthodox and unsanctioned use of the church." Then Jules added as an afterthought, "You didn't seriously injure him; just frightened him."

Erik looked calmly at Jules. As usual, Jules had been thorough in the follow up of his task.

Continuing, Jules explained, "No one knows the identity of you or the woman. They thought you were simply an eccentric, wealthy man entertaining a paramour. The carriage man has been well paid and was unaware of what occurred in the church." Jules looked earnestly at Erik. He felt somewhat guilty that the event had turned out badly.

Erik held his gaze. "Do not trouble yourself, Jules. It was an unforeseen circumstance."

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That evening, Erik lay on his sofa as he read. He had decided to stay in for the night. There had been plenty of excitement the night before, and Jade probably needed her rest. They had returned to the opera house late and well past her bedtime. He noticed that she was now riding the horses before dawn so she needed to get to bed earlier. He could visit her tomorrow.

He closed the book and ran his bath. Slipping into the steaming water, his muscles relaxed as the liquid heat covered his chest. He glanced at the wall where the sketches were pinned and his mind wandered through the patterns and fabrics. Tomorrow he would send his final selection to a clever and efficient dressmaker who would be able to finish the dress on Tuesday. That would leave time for final adjustments, if it were necessary. But he doubted that they would be needed. He had a good eye. Now, all he needed to do was decide if she would look best in the green silk or the velvet…

He drifted off a little in the heat of the bath.

In his bedchamber Erik was about to remove his mask for the night when suddenly, he had an urge to go to the back passages. He paused, and then reached for his trousers and quickly dressed. Swinging his cape across his shoulders, he ran to the boat.

Once there, he prowled the passageways, wondering what he was about to find. His intuition was never wrong when it came to the safety of his home and invaders. In his hand was the coiled lasso that he held with experienced ease as he moved swiftly and silently up the corridor. No one came there by accident. _They will regret their decision,_ he thought darkly.

Rounding a corner, he saw the light of a lantern ahead. The footsteps approaching him were quiet, and the height of the lantern suggested that the person was much shorter than him. Erik stepped into the opening of an adjacent passage and waited for his prey. He would allow the person to pass, and then would follow behind. His hands twitched in anticipation.

Jade glided by, floating along the corridor like a disembodied spirit. Erik's mouth opened in surprise, and then quickly snapped shut.

_So, she found a way in. How the devil did she do that? _It took only a moment for him to solve the mystery. _Box five, of course. It is the only place where she knows of an entrance._

Erik followed her as he considered what to do next. How long had she been there? He had seen her walk back passages before and watched how she had systematically explored them. She was probably forming a mental map of them as she walked.

Moving silently behind her, he studied the lines of her back. He was beginning to enjoy the irony of the situation. Last night he had been frustrated that he could not bring her to his home, and here she was relentlessly exploring his hidden domain.

It was fortunate that he had found her before she had gone much further. The route from Box five lacked the traps that he had set in other parts of the passages for unwelcome visitors. However, once she drew closer to the lake, she would have surely stumbled upon one.

Using ventriloquism, he whispered in her ear. "Jade..."

She stopped and froze. Not knowing which direction the voice came from, she stood and waited.

As Erik silently approached her, she suddenly turned and faced him.

Erik gave her a short and mocking bow. "My dear Jade, are you so impatient for my company that you have taken to prowling dark passages in search of me?"

Jade returned his gesture with a short nod of acknowledgement, and then looked up at him with an expressionless face. This was the first time she had seen him without his fancy waistcoat and cravat. Plus, his hair was uncombed. He didn't look like his usual, impeccable self.

"Erik, I need to speak with you. I knew you weren't going to visit me tonight and I couldn't wait. Please, we must talk."

Erik stopped smirking and stared at her. Her face had lost its coolness and appeared tense, as if she were restraining her feelings.

Suddenly, he turned away and signaled her to follow.

Moving along the passages that Jade had traveled, they returned to box five. From there, Erik walked ahead of her by a few steps as she struggled to keep up with his long strides. They traveled along winding back halls and avoided the occasional person until they arrived in a storage area of the opera house. Erik unlocked a door and entered.

Jade followed, and her lantern lit a small room with crates stacked high. In a corner was a small table and chair, and a crate upended to act as another chair.

Dusting off the chair, he signaled for Jade to sit. He sat on the crate and faced her with his eyebrow raised.

Jade set the lantern on the table and stared at its dusty top. After a minute, her finger began to slowly form a spiral, which wound tightly into its center. As she dreamily made the design, her hand began to tingle. A buzzing started up in her head, and she felt a little light-headed.

Shutting her eyes, she could feel the hands from her nightmare around her waist that tugged her away from the blood, and pulled her into the darkness.

Her eyes opened and she was looking into Erik's, which were veiled with shadows. For a moment, she thought that he was in her dream.

She shook her head and cleared her mind. Erik was sitting quietly and waiting for her to speak.

"Meley died today,' she calmly stated. "Did you know that?" She watched for his reaction.

Erik continued to look at her but showed no surprise.

"Yes. I know." He replied.

"How?" Jade asked.

"I have my sources," Erik answered guardedly.

"No, I mean, how did it happen? How was he injured? Were you there, Erik?"

Erik leaned back a fraction and his face became a mask. He didn't answer.

"Alright then, will you answer this: Was I there?" Jade was becoming agitated.

With narrowed eyes, he stared at her for several moments before replying, "Yes. You were there."

She was gripping the edge of the table, and her knuckles were turning white when she asked, "Then _why_ can't I remember?"

Erik looked down at her and seemed to be considering his answer. Then finally, he spoke.

"Jade, you heard the stallion screaming, and you ran to the stable where you found Meley beating the horse. You hit him on the head with your staff in order to stop him. Then you fainted, and I caught you and carried you to the storage room."

Jade looked at him suspiciously. Something was missing from the story. Her instincts told her he was holding something back.

"I need the whole truth from you. Since that day, I've had nightmares. Please Erik."

Unconsciously, she was twisting her hands in agitation, and he watched the movement with interest. Then he sighed and looked into her eyes.

"Jade, you weren't yourself when you hit Meley. After you hit him the first time, you were about to hit him again. I pulled you away so that you wouldn't kill him. I tied your hands and moved you to the storage room. Later, I came back to check on you."

Looking away from Erik, her gaze wandered through the crowded room as she noted every aspect of it, down to the dingy sacks in the corner. Then she turned back to the tall man who was watching her carefully.

"Thank you, Erik. That's all I needed to know." She picked up the lantern, and walked out of the room.

Retracing her steps back to a familiar hall, she made her way to the corridor that led to her room. She didn't look back to see if he was following. Opening her door, she slipped in and quickly locked it behind her. Then she pulled the bolt, which had been installed earlier that day.

Lying on her bed, she hugged her knees to her chest, feeling the warmth of her body. The nausea was gone, replaced with a stoic calmness.

_I've killed a man, _she thought. _I am a murderer._

She closed her eyes and watched the flickering lights beneath her lids throb and flash with tension. Eventually they faded into gray patches that smeared the blackness. She lay there until her mind escaped into a deep sleep, devoid of dreams or nightmares.

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**A/N: thank you readers who are reviewing. You make my day when I post a new chapter and you toss back your impressions.**


	26. Chapter 26 Mourning

**Chapter 26 Mourning**

Erik watched Jade from the mirror as she put on the black dress. She slipped her pale arms through the sleeves of the costume and arranged the high collar about her tanned neck. His lips opened slightly in appreciation as he saw her twist around and lift her skirt to check her stockings. Her slender, strong legs were covered in soft fabric that highlighted their curves. As usual, she was not wearing a corset. Before he had heard her tell her history to the farmer, he had wondered what class she was born in. Her love of books and the way she spoke pointed to education and good breeding, but she shared the lower class's indifference to fashionable encumbrances.

He had been watching her since Friday night, when she had first bolted her door against him. Every night it was the same. She would enter her room and then secure it.

If he left her a letter in the middle of the night it would prove that she could not lock him out. But he had dismissed the idea. She was in mourning, and he had not wanted to upset her.

Over the last few days, Erik had stood behind the mirror, in the corners of the stable and near other places that she passed by, and watched her pensive face. Today, her self-imposed isolation had finally become tiresome, and he had decided it was time for it to end.

He watched her leave by carriage for the cemetery, and then entered his own and followed.

It had been raining the entire day, and the cemetery grounds were soaked. The mood at the graveside was bleak and dreary. There was a large group gathered to bid Meley farewell on this, his last journey. DuChant and the Deschamps were there. The priest faced the crowd and droned on about the afterlife as he stood beneath the ancient, black cypresses that twisted and dipped in the wind. The people attending the interment looked out coldly from beneath their umbrellas. They were impatient to leave that dismal, wet scene.

Jade stood at a distance from the other mourners, and stared grimly at the priest. She was indifferent to the blasts of rain that struck her. Erik watched her straight back and still figure which appeared to be planted in the earth like the cold, stone statues that surrounded her.

When the service ended, the crowd dispersed. DuChant walked back to his carriage, his shoes occasionally scraping the raised stone path. Looking out from below his dripping hat, he spied the lone woman standing in the rain and recognized her. _What is she doing here? _he thought, mildly perturbed. Ever since he had spoken with Jade in her room the time that she was ill, the sight of her bothered him. Just the other day Pierre was back in his office asking that she be allowed to leave for a week to visit with him and his family. DuChant had readily agreed. With luck, she would stay there. If she married Pierre, he would rarely see her and she would no longer be his responsibility.

DuChant was curious as to why she had attended the service. Meley had no friends in the lower class. All the mourners in the church had been wealthy, bourgeoisie, or successful artists who were now well to do. Meley would have ignored someone of Jade's station.

He sat in his carriage and watched the woman approach the fresh grave. The gravedigger was grunting as he tossed wet dirt into the hole. She stood nearby with her head bent down and appeared to be watching where the dirt landed. _Odd behavior, _he thought. _She's acting as if she knew him well and regrets his death._

After a few minutes, DuChant lost interest, and signaled for the driver to move on.

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When the grave was filled in, Jade laid a flower upon it. She knelt down in the wet grass, crossed herself, and prayed for a few minutes. The gravedigger had left and she was alone.

She got up and wiped the damp grass from her cloak. It would be a long walk back to the opera house. She couldn't afford to keep a carriage waiting. Madame Truffaut would be angry with her when she arrived late for work.

As she walked out of the cemetery, Jade passed a lone carriage that waited on the road. _It's probably someone who is visiting a grave, _she thought absently.

Erik watched her walk by, and signaled the driver to follow.

The rain poured around her as she sloshed through the puddles. The water was running off her face and soaking her clothing. After a quarter of a mile, the carriage pulled up beside her and matched her pace. Then Erik called to her.

Startled, she turned to the carriage, and saw the shadow within. She had been deep in thought as she walked, and his sudden presence shook her from it.

The white mask floated closer to the carriage window, and then Erik's voice, stern and commanding, cut through the air. "I do not want to see you ill again. Come into the carriage."

She climbed in with dripping cloak and skirt, and sat across from Erik who was splendidly dressed. He tossed a lap blanket next to her, and gave her a sharp nod that demanded that she use it. She obligingly put it over her legs, and cautiously stared back at him.

"My dear, you seem to have a propensity to immerse yourself in foul weather. Were you planning on walking the entire way back to the opera house in this storm?" Erik was scowling at her and his voice was colder than the wind outside.

Jade looked down at her fingers, which had a bluish tinge to the nails. As usual, he was correct in his assessment, but she bridled at his tone. But, after a moment of reflection, she realized that it was a relief to find him angry with her rather than sympathetic. She deserved anger and chastisement.

They rode in silence with Jade looking out the window and Erik restraining his feelings. He wanted to pull her out of that seat, remove those damnable wet garments, and cover her with his cloak. But he knew that she would fight him. She seemed hell bent on punishing herself.

Suddenly, Erik reached across, and taking her hands, began to rub them vigorously to restore the circulation and color. Jade jumped back a bit but the carriage seat thwarted her escape. She watched as he worked over her hands and felt warmth move up to her wrists. Looking down at his bowed head, she smelled the faint odor of candle smoke that came from his black hair. And then, unexpectedly, she wanted to touch him.

Quickly, she looked out the window at the sheet of gray rain, and took in a deep breath of cold air. _I don't deserve him or anyone else, _she thought bitterly.

The hand rubbing stopped and his fingers were at her throat. Jade pulled away, and raised her hands to stop him as he started to undo the cloak's ties. When he growled, "Hold still," she stopped struggling, and let him remove her cloak. Then he placed his own around her shoulders, and sat back in his seat with a look of triumph.

She watched him for a moment and wondered what other liberties he might try next. Turning back to the window, she asked herself, _why is he being kind to me?__Oh yes. It was no surprise to him that I killed a man. He apparently doesn't mind traveling with a murderer. Perhaps many of his acquaintances are criminals. _

When the carriage drew near to the opera house, Jade removed the warm, dry cloak and put her own back on. She handed the cloak to Erik who didn't take it. Sighing, she reached over and placed it on the seat next to him. As she sat back, his hand closed over her wrist and gripped it tightly. Quickly, she looked up into his eyes.

"My dear, I should like to visit you in your room tomorrow evening. Do not bolt your door when you retire." His smooth voice and mocking eyes seemed to be making a joke of her need for privacy. However, there was nothing humorous about his grip.

Lifting her chin, she stared back and pushed aside the thought of submitting to him. _He will not control me, _she thought defiantly.

She abruptly pulled her hand from his grasp, and stepped out of the carriage. The fire was back in her stride as she climbed the opera house steps.

Erik watched her until she disappeared, and signaled the driver to move on.

Now he knew how to restore her spirit. Although there was a risk that she might throw another hard object at his head, he would bully her back to her old self.

0000

After changing her clothes, Jade ran to the offices. Once she arrived, she had to push past several workmen who were crowding around the door.

The place was a mad house. Orders were flying in so quickly that Mme. Truffaut had hired a third assistant to help them get through the week. Everyone was working late. Jade would be lucky if she finished by eight o'clock this evening.

0000

It was half past eight when Jade made her way to the roof. The rains had stopped by late afternoon but the air was still moist. She leaned on the parapet and looked out at the lights of Paris. The luminous stream spread out below her perch and was broken only by the occasional silhouette of trees. After watching the display for a while, she turned away from the city and faced the terrace. Giant statues stood guard around her, and she followed their lines to the sky. She was awed by their size and mass, and imagined them crashing through the many floors of the opera house to the street below. But the roof held firm, and the light breeze that chilled her face shifted and danced in that high place, and lifted her spirit.

Earlier that day, she had felt very low. The cold rain beating against her at the funeral had seemed fitting and just. As she watched the dirt strike Meley's casket, each thud was a blow to her conscience. On her walk back to the opera house, she had pondered the vagaries of life. She dreaded what would come next since she could no longer trust herself to do what was right.

And then Erik had appeared out of nowhere and shook her out of those depressing thoughts.

Oddly, his arrogance had helped. As she fought against his domineering ways, she felt like her old self again.

She thought about his imminent visit tomorrow night. If she bolted her door against him, what would happen? An impasse had arisen. She had no choice but to defy him.

Turning back to the city's lights, she let go of her problems, and marveled at the beauty. Up there, on the roof of the opera house, it was like looking down from the heavens on a peaceful, perfect world. As she heard the faint clatter below, she felt detached from the struggles of mankind. Her face relaxed and she basked in the serenity.

Tonight, the music in her mind was deep and slow. Ever since Friday night's revelation, the music had been less strident and chaotic. _It matches my feelings, _she mused, _whether I know them or not._

The melody reminded her of the late autumn days of her childhood, when the season shifted towards winter, and the days grew shorter.

_Home_. Today was November first, and she wondered what the countryside looked like around her village. She walked to a nearby statue, sat upon it, and daydreamed of rolling hills and clear skies. She was sitting by a lake and sharing a lunch with Pierre. His kiss was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened a moment ago. The look in his eyes had been warm and probing as he boldly declared his feelings.

Suddenly, she was back in the present as the evening chill ran through her shoulders. _What would he think of me if he knew my secrets?_ She pondered. Now there were two: music and murder. Both pointed to insanity. How could she hoist such a problem upon her dear friend?

Sadly, she relinquished her long held dream of returning to the country. _It's not for me, _she thought mournfully. _I'll never have that life again._

Jade rose, and walked to the parapet. She daringly leaned over it, and stared at the tiny figures that crossed the plaza. _What would it feel like to plunge to the ground below?_ she wondered as she leaned further over the edge.

There was a noise as the door to the roof opened. Abruptly, she backed away and turned to see Jean stepping out. In a moment, he was at her side.

After gazing at the display of lights, he said, "It's beautiful, isn't it? I haven't been up here for at least a month, and I forgot how quiet it is."

As he leaned on the parapet, Jade found his boyish air endearing. She turned back to the lights, and they stood there silently for several minutes.

Sitting on the ledge, he faced her. "Are you ready for opening night?" he asked casually.

She was expecting him to start up with his teasing about the dress. He had spent the last week joking about it as if he were trying to tell her that the whole idea of fashion was a silly matter, and she would easily sail through the ordeal ahead.

"Will we be able to watch the opera?" she asked. Now that the performance was only four days away, she thought it was about time that she knew.

"You can always listen from the back stage. Once it's been staged a few times, there will probably be some seats available for the staff when they've finished selling tickets for that night," he replied.

"Well, then what's the point of getting dressed up for opening night?" Jade asked. _All this fuss for nothing, _she thought with mild irritation.

Jean looked at her steadily and replied, "After the opera, the principals and other performers gather in the halls around the auditorium and the dressing rooms, and congratulate each other. Important members of the audience will also be there. Wearing one's finest is a tradition."

Jade's face became expressionless. Giving her a warm smile, he continued. "None of those people will be paying attention to us, Jade. They'll all be trying to talk with the principals, the owners and the composer if the opera is a success. The staff and the rest of the cast will be celebrating in another area."

"What do you mean, 'if' it's a success? After all the work you've put into it…"

He laughed at her naiveté, and then stopped when she frowned. "It probably will be a success. But sometimes an opera isn't," he replied lightly.

Moving a little closer to her, he took her hand. "Jade, I want to tell you something." He smiled broadly. "Manette is pregnant. She told me last night."

"Oh Jean, that's wonderful! Congratulations! When?"

Shrugging his shoulders good naturedly, he answered, " In about seven months, I think. In the spring."

0000

Jade walked back to her room. It was late and she had missed supper, but it didn't matter. Jean's good news buoyed her up, and she felt like dancing. She wished the music in her mind were a livelier tune so that she could skate across the auditorium stage in celebration. She needed to think of a gift for them. Something special.

Unlocking her door, she reached up and turned on the gaslight. Looking into the room, she saw Erik seated at the table.

Startled, she stepped back. Then she quickly shut the door, and leaned her back against it.

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed. For some, inane reason, she hadn't expected he would do that: wait for her in her room without permission. And in the dark! He'd broken nearly every other boundary but that one.

It was the last straw.

Erik looked up at her briefly, and then turned away in a dismissive manner as he picked up a book from the table.

Something inside of her snapped, and her pulse began to throb at her temples. The last of her patience and good sense vanished as she strode across the room. She stood over him in a fury and was ready to do _anything _to get him out. _I've had enough of his insolence!_ she fumed.

Impulsively, she grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted them so that he would face her.

In a flash he was out of the chair, and holding her in a fierce grip. He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and dropped her on it.

She was up in an instant with her fists hitting his chest. Jade wasn't thinking of the best way to force him out, or how to hurt him. She simply needed to strike back at this big, arrogant man who thought he could bully her and do anything that he wished.

Once the anger began it escalated. Enraged, she pounded his chest. She was fighting Erik and the monumental obstacles of her life: her mother's abandonment, Jean-Luc's departure, her father, and the painful isolation.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the anger disappeared. She found herself pressed against Erik, who was holding her close. Softly, his voice whispered into her ear, "Jade."

Jade slowly raised her head from Erik's chest, and looked into his eyes. He was looking down at her with that same tender look that she had seen when she'd first awoken from her fever.

A moment later, she realized that they were locked together in an intimate embrace. A wave of heat rushed across her face. She turned her head aside, and slowly pulled away from him. He released her, and sat down.

Moving to the dresser, she pulled out her nightclothes as she hid her face from him. She knew that she must be bright red from blushing and felt terribly embarrassed. Displaying her nightclothes to a man who had just held her in his arms was not a good idea, but it would've been worse if she aimlessly walked around the room. After the clothes were placed on the bed, she finally had the courage to look up at Erik.

He was reading his book, and tactfully ignoring her. Jade took a moment to study his face. The tenderness was gone and the firm, no nonsense look of his jaw line was back. Either whatever he had felt earlier was gone, or he was a skillful actor.

Reluctantly, she picked up the chair and moved it to the table where she sat down. After a moment, Erik closed the book, and gave her a steady look. Inwardly she winced but held his gaze.

"My dear, a few minutes ago, you were infuriated with me. In fact, you lost control, and attacked me." He paused and gave her a slight smile, which indicated that the violence had been no worse than a minor insect bite.

Erik opened his arms and showed her his chest, which was neatly clothed in an attractive waistcoat. "I was not mortally wounded by your attack," he said pointedly.

Leaving the table, he donned his cape, and walked out the door.

Minutes later, Jade slipped into her cold bed. While gazing at the ceiling, she realized how cleverly he had manipulated her. He had set her up for the fall, and then caught her at the precise moment that she had needed him. She now understood how he had been able to tame the wild stallion.

And then she wondered if he had set about to tame her as well.

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An hour later, Erik stood in front of the mirror. Removing his shirt, he studied the damage. Black and blue marks had emerged, and were advancing across his chest. _She is stronger than I had expected, _he thought a little ruefully. Reaching for the salve, he applied it to a particularly large bruise as he winced a little from the pain.

_Fortunately, I held her close enough so that there was not enough momentum to break my ribs. _It must have been the horseback riding and managing headstrong mounts that had given her that strength. At any rate, he would remember it in his future dealings with her.

_Well, there is always the lasso, _he thought, as he smiled wryly, and applied a cold cloth to his chest.

**A/N: Dear readers, please keep the reviews coming. I used 2 comments from a reader to help me develop ideas for this chapter. You are all potential muses. Keep the faith.**


	27. Chapter 27 Opera

**A/N: just a reminder, the characters Christine and Raoul don't belong to me. They belong to G. Leroux's 'The Phantom of the Opera'.**

**The reference to the construction of the opera house is taken from Susan Kay's novel 'Phantom'.**

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**Chapter 27 Opera**

The wagon rolled away from the delivery door with its buckets of water sloshing and spilling onto its wooden bed. Jade watched as it lumbered down the street. She turned to the troop of boys who stood by the handcarts that were full of flowers, and together they wheeled their fragrant load into the opera house.

Deliveries to the Opera Populaire were finished. It was time for opening night.

After the flowers were rushed to the hands of the decorators, Jade lazily strolled through the corridors on the main floor, as she took in the frenzied activity around her. She passed the ballet dressing rooms, and on a whim, stepped inside. Through the thickly powdered air, the excited voices of ballerinas collided in the stuffy room. Their lithe, scantily clad bodies were draped in front of mirrors as they applied grease paint and makeup. Manette was in a corner adjusting the headpiece of a ballerina. She saw Jade and gave her a brief wave before returning to her work.

Jade left the dressing rooms and traveled to the backstage where she found Jean tinkering with the set for the first act. Glancing up at her, he got to his feet.

"Jade, are you going up to your room now to change?"

"Yes. When can you come up?" she asked.

"I'll be up in about an hour," he replied as he turned back to the set.

The staff quarters were flooded with activity. Most of the young women's doors were open as they flowed back and forth into each other's rooms with their dresses and hair ornaments. In a pinch, Jade might have asked one of the women to button the back of her new gown. But none of them were her friends, and Jean had said that he would do it. When she had first mentioned it, he had replied, "I've done thousands of buttons since I married Manette and I'm sure I'll do many more. The newest fashion is full of them. A couple dozen more won't matter," he grinned, as he waved her off the stage.

Walking towards her room, she thought of her new outfit. It was a better design than Jean's previous attempts. Unfortunately, it had a train.

Jade hated skirts that dragged yards of fabric behind them. It was a ridiculous nuisance. And Jean's friend in the costume department had gotten carried away and added another current fashion idea to it: a narrow skirt. It wasn't as severe as Manette's, which was at the height of fashion and allowed for only six inches of movement per step. However, it was still a perverse hindrance.

Thinking about the skirt caused her jaw to tighten. Opening her door, she turned on the gaslight, and stepped in to find a large box and several packages on her bed. After handling the parcels wrapped in ivory white paper with black ribbon, she carefully opened the large, flat box.

Inside was a gown of jade green velvet with petticoats piled beneath it. The rest of the bundles contained shoes, stockings, and her cashmere cloak.

She picked up the gown and studied it. Inside the upper part were two cup-like pieces of soft fabric with a stiffer fabric below them. It was an odd design. Looking down at her breasts, she suddenly realized that this was Erik's substitution for a corset.

Quickly, she put on the new clothes.

The garments felt light and comfortable. Unlike fashionable clothing of the day in which women wore pounds of undergarments, the petticoats were sleek and thin. The gown's sleeves allowed easy arm movement, a function often ignored by designers. The neckline was low, and exposed the top of her breasts. From shoulder to shoulder there hung a swath of fabric with many folds that gracefully fell to her waist.

The skirt with its simple lines was full and short enough to allow for easy walking through dusty halls without brushing the floor. And there wasn't a train!

As Jade looked at her reflection, she ran her fingers lightly across the delicate, gold embroidery that wound around the folds and edges of the gown. Tiny leaves and flowers of columbine protruded from the lush velvet. The effect was strikingly rich.

Picking up her cloak, she hugged it, and remembered the first time she saw it. It had been a thrill to put it on and imagine who had created it: someone intelligent and perceptive. Now it was back with this elegant gown.

Before she knew Erik and Pierre, she had been suspicious of such extravagant gestures, and afraid that they were bait to entrap her. Now she saw them with a fresh eye.

They were Erik's creations. They were gifts from a friend.

Sitting on the bed, Jade waited for him. A half hour later, Jean knocked at Jade's door.

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Erik was prowling the building, as he looked for problems that might disrupt the staging of the opera and ruin opening night. He wanted tonight to be perfect.

He planned to take Jade to the chamber below the stage where the acoustics were excellent. Together, they would listen to the music, and he would have her to himself. He relished the thought of sharing the opera with a woman who would appreciate its beauty.

Pausing below the subscriber's room, he listened to the idle prattle of wealthy operagoers who were gathering for opening night. It was the usual blather about politics, social events, and business. Smiling sardonically at the poor use of their minds, he listened to their posturing and noted scraps of gossip that might be useful to him in the future.

He had seen the list on DuChant's desk and knew the identity of most of them.  
Then suddenly, he heard a familiar voice, that of Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny.

Startled, he froze, and then moved closer to the voice. _Damnation! What the devil is he doing back here?  
_

Erik was surprised that the man had the courage to return to the place where he had been humiliated and nearly destroyed.

And then it came to him. _Christine must be here as well!  
_

Swiftly with a racing heart, he moved to the area where the ladies were gathering. The thought of seeing her again in his opera house drove him to a desperate pace.

As he stood beneath each room, he listened for her voice, and found nothing. Lurking behind the walls, some of which had cracks or peepholes to peer through, he waited, and then moved restlessly on, like a great cat. She was nowhere to be found.

And then he heard her name.

"Where is the Vicomtesse de Chagny this evening?" asked a plump, older woman with very expensive looking jewels.

"My dear, have you not heard? She is in the last month of her confinement," replied a young, rosy-cheeked matron.

Erik leaned back against the wall and trembled. The thought of Christine heavy with his rival's child stabbed at him. The last time he had seen her had been six months before and there had been no evidence of the pregnancy.

Groaning, he pushed away the image, and then slowly walked back along the dark passages towards the staff quarters.

0000

It was after Jade had left that Erik arrived at her room. Entering, he lit a candle, and spied the cloak upon the bed, which he then scooped up.

Rushing along the passages, he searched for her. The opera would begin within the hour and he was running out of time.

0000

Jade was walking down a crowded corridor when Erik found her. She held her head high, and moved gracefully through the turmoil. Erik noticed men's heads turning in her direction as she passed them in her green gown. It flattered her, but she was unaware of their admiration.

He smiled at that. As she passed by his hiding place, he called to her using ventriloquism. She stopped, and pretended to straighten her gown as she waited.

"Go to the next corridor and turn left, then turn left at the one beyond. You will find an unlocked door at the end of the hall on the right," his voice whispered in her ear.

Arriving ahead of her, he unlocked the door and waited. Minutes later, she stepped into the dark room.

"Erik?" she asked tentatively of the blackness.

There was the sound of a match scraping the wall, and Erik lit the torch. Holding it above his head, he turned to her.

Lustrous eyes with pupils enlarged from excitement met his. In the green gown, she looked like a medieval maiden, a young virgin who had just stepped out of a glade after visiting with her unicorn. The torchlight bathed her face with a vibrant glow that suddenly warmed his heart and made her seem lusciously attainable.

Erik's gaze inadvertently traveled down her neck and rested upon her soft breasts that were partly exposed to the chilly, unheated air. Their gradual rise and fall mesmerized him.

After a moment he looked away, thinking that she would regard him as crude for dumbly staring at her breasts. But when he looked into her eyes, her gaze was soft and curious, as if she were sensing that something was amiss. She was waiting for him to act.

Pulling her cloak from the top of a crate, he placed it across her shoulders and said quietly, "It is chilly where we will be going." Then he offered his hand to her.

They passed through the door to the hidden passage, and walked the corridors until reaching the area below the stage. There they came to a widening of the passage, which was the size of a small room. In its center were a table, two chairs and a bottle of wine with two glasses. Erik placed the torch on the wall, and motioned for her to sit.

He poured the wine and handed her a glass. Jade was watching him closely, and her dreamy look was gone.

The candles of the standing candelabras were lit, and the tiny chamber's walls wavered in the expanding glow. Settling in, they waited for the music. As they brought the wine to their lips, the orchestra above began to play.

The sweeping sound was drawn to the chamber, which distilled it into crystal clarity. Distinct notes lingered upon the air, and then swelled and painted the chamber's walls with throbbing sensations.

Shutting her eyes, Jade sighed deeply, and gave herself up to the ebb and flow of the melody, which carried her to a euphoric peace.

Erik watched her for a few moments and then shut his eyes as well.

Following the orchestra and voices, he critiqued the performance. Everything was going well, and it appeared that opening night would be a success. Relaxing, he leaned back in his chair, and immersed himself in the whirl of sounds.

His eyelids grew heavy, and his breathing slowed as he traveled down old avenues of past delights. The music took him back to the heyday of the Opera Populaire when beautiful arias breathed life into his lonely compositions. One voice separated itself from the rest with an exquisite joy that tethered his soul. The memory of Christine returned, with her chestnut curls and brown eyes that swallowed him whole. He was standing before her, and singing the last part of the Don Juan duet. Clasping her hand between his, he cried out his love as he stared into her face, determined to show her once and for all that he was utterly hers.

Her response was to rip off his mask and expose him to the world.

Erik flinched, and opened his eyes in horror.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, he composed himself, and put on the distant air that masked the bare side of his face. The pain retreated as once again the music surrounded him.

Slowly, he turned to his companion.

Jade was sitting with her eyes closed, and her face tipped up to the ceiling as the notes rained down upon her.

She was soft and lovely in her green gown with the pale cloak lying lightly on her shoulders. Her glossy hair was swept back with a comb and fell past her shoulders.

She was beauty, and peace—his future untainted by the past. Tonight was supposed to have been their beginning.

With trembling hands, he thought of touching her face and bringing her lips to his. Having her would be living a dream. In it, he could lose himself in her exhilarating mix of softness and strength, resourcefulness and fragility.

During these last weeks with her, his obsessive love for Christine had diminished, and had been replaced with hope.

Turning from her, he clenched his jaw, and inwardly cursed Raoul de Chagny's voice. The mere thought of Christine being in his opera house had nearly driven him past reason. His automatic, desperate search for her forced him to see that he was still bound to her. Which meant that if he were to take his pleasure with Jade, he would be using her. She was there beside him and he could not even touch her.

The frustration mounted and with it came an immense urge to smash something. He restlessly shifted in his chair, which caused it to creak loudly.

Jade opened her eyes, and watched him for a moment. Then she shut them, and turned back to the music.

Erik forced himself to calm down and consider his choices. If he were tender and careful, she could come to love him. He would give her what was left of his love, even if the most important part was already taken. She would stay with him.

_However,_ _if she were to see my true face, she would run from me. She would lose whatever romantic ideas I have inspired._

The answer, of course, was simple: if he wanted her to stay, he must never show it to her.

Erik leaned back in his chair and listened as the voices resonated above him. Whatever he decided to do, he had better do it soon. There was a rival for her affection, and he could feel her poised and ready to make a decision.

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Jade sat in the stone chamber and carefully studied Erik. There was something unusual about him tonight. She could feel it. In spite of the magic in this sanctuary of music, his uneasiness was palpable.

Her mind vacillated between the music and her concern for him. She wanted to ease her friend's distress, but she didn't know how.

During the intermission, Erik seemed to relax somewhat as he explained to her the history of the opera house. Precisely, he described the challenges of drainage, construction, and working with a tight fisted budget from the French government. His discourse was filled with wit, sardonic humor, and reverence. At the end of it, she concluded that he had a deep and abiding love for the place.

_Where is his home?_ She burned with curiosity. But it wasn't her way to pry into another's secrets. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her.

A thought came to her. He was scholarly; perhaps he knew something about natural science that could help Pierre's brother, Lucien.

"Erik, do you know about the grape blight?" she asked.

He looked at her with interest, and welcomed the unexpected topic.

"Yes. Of course," he answered. Then he waited for her real question.

"If you had a vineyard that was affected, what would you do?"

The torch suddenly sputtered and fought to stay alight, then faded away. Erik got up, pulled it from the wall, and laid it on the floor. Returning, he faced her.

"I would buy healthy root stock from America, and would graft onto it a desirable scion. I would then rip out my current vineyard, and plant the new vines in the unaffected areas. Does your acquaintance have any remaining unaffected vines?" His eyes were twinkling as he asked her the question. He was enjoying this.

"I believe so," Jade slowly answered. "What do you consider to be healthy American root stock?"

Their discussion continued until the orchestra began again.

After the intermission, Erik seemed like his old self. He leaned back in a relaxed fashion and listened to the music while he casually sipped his wine.

The final scene from Aida was still beautiful, but it didn't have the same effect on Jade as the first time she heard it. This time, Jean-Luc remained safely buried in her heart.

When the opera was finished, Erik led her back to the room from where they had entered the hidden passages. Turning to her, he stretched out his arm and deftly removed the cloak from her shoulders. Jade looked up at him with surprise.

"You will not need this for the remainder of the night." He stood there with a mocking smile on his lips, as if he dared her to try to take it back.

She gazed at him, puzzled by the game he was playing. Then she shrugged her shoulders and left the room.

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Erik quickly strode back to his home. He had no intention of spying upon the parties and self-congratulating that would now play out in the opera house. The opera had been a success. He was tired and wanted sleep.

Arriving home, he pulled the small boat onto the shore. As per his usual ritual, he relit the candles that had burned out in his absence. After putting on his robe, he casually examined a few architectural drawings, and added several details. Then he pushed them aside, and went to his bedchamber.

The camel colored cloak was lying on his bed. Pulling back the covers, he slipped in, and pulled the cloak towards him. He caressed its soft folds for a moment, and then brought it to his nose. Her smell was embedded in it.

Lying awake with the candles reflected in his eyes, he watched the shadow play on the ceiling as he held the cloak in his arms.

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Brightly colored Chinese lanterns swung between the high ceiling and the floor of the enormous room. Food and beverages were piled on the tables, and there was an abundance of absinthe and grain alcohol for those who cared to imbibe. The room roared with laughter and drunken voices.

Most of the cast and staff were there for the after-party. Even Mme. Truffaut sat in a chair and watched the proceedings with glittering eyes.

On entering the room, Jade immediately looked for Manette and Jean, and saw them at the back. As she squeezed through the crowd, she was suddenly brushing against Paul Rascon. He gave her a smile and a bow, and then stepped aside for her. Nodding, she moved past him. His eyes followed her until she reached her friends.

Seeing Jade, Jean jumped up and offered her his chair. "Jade," he said, eyeing her with appreciation, "did I tell you how marvelous you look tonight?"

She blushed and sat down. She was glad that he hadn't been offended by her not wearing the gown he had designed.

Manette was perched on her chair, and looked lovely as she too wore a new gown. She was one of the few people that Jade knew who could carry off any fashion with grace and verve.

"That is an extraordinary gown, Jade. Where did you get it?" Her eyes were moving smoothly over Jade's garment, and there was a certain calculating look to them, as if she were busily stealing ideas from the designer.

"It was sent up to my room this evening as a surprise," Jade answered. She turned to Jean. "I am so grateful that you cared to design a gown for me. I'll wear it at the party tomorrow night."

Jean snorted and firmly shook his head 'no'. "You will not! This one is perfect for you, and you will wear it tomorrow night, as well. I want you to look and feel your best when you meet Verdi."

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Leaving the party early, Jade returned to her room with Jean at her side. The halls they passed through had a fair share of drunken, boisterous people, and lovers entwined in dark corners. Jean had thought that it would be a good idea to escort her back to her room.

After Jean left, Jade went to Pierre's door and knocked. The door opened and an unknown, young man appeared.

"Mademoiselle?" he asked. Then his gaze swept her gown, and his mouth opened. His eyes softened, and he bowed to her.

"I'm looking for Pierre. I am his friend, Jade Bouta."

"Ahhh, Mlle. Bouta. Uncle Pierre told me to give this to you." He turned from the door, and then returned with an envelope that was addressed to her.

"I am Michel Aubert," the young man said as he handed her the letter, and gave her another bow.

She gazed at him and could see that he was a little smitten with her.

"You are Lucien's son?"

Michel smiled, pleased that she already knew a little about him, and nodded 'yes'.

"Thank you for the letter, Michel. If I choose to reply to your uncle, may I count on you to deliver a letter to him?" she asked.

"But of course, Mlle. Bouta. I would be honored to assist you." He was a handsome fellow and looked a little like Pierre.

"Thank you Michel. Good night."

Jade returned to her room, and opened the letter.

**My dear Jade, **

**  
I am very sorry to have missed the opening night of the opera. I had hoped to see you there and join in your celebration.**

**  
Earlier this week, I needed to meet with a man in another village about business that concerns my family, and the trip took more time than I had planned. I have sent my nephew to Paris in my place to take care of my market business this week. **

**  
I will see you on Wednesday. I hope that you are still planning on visiting my home. If you choose to take the train instead of traveling with me, as we discussed, I still wish to meet with you at the opera house before you leave.**

**  
I hope this finds you in the best of health.**

**  
Sincerely,**

**  
Pierre Aubert**

**  
**Jade put the letter in the pocket of her breeches. She hadn't mentioned her plans to visit Pierre's home to anyone except DuChant. Nor had she and Pierre discussed it in the opera house.

There was something about his letter that troubled her. As she opened it, a premonition gave her goose bumps. She said a little prayer for Pierre, and hoped that everything was fine with her friend.

Quickly, she wrote a reply, and gave it to Michel.

Afterwards, she lay in bed, and replayed the evening as she thought of her upcoming trip to the country. She had said nothing to Erik about it. Instead, she planned to leave him a letter in her room when she left. When he came looking for her, he would see it and understand.

_Would he?_

Part of her knew that although she was now well and didn't need his guardianship that her unexpected absence would upset him. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him. Their new friendship was fragile and didn't need arguments and divisiveness. In addition, she wondered if he would oppose her leaving the opera house.

She turned over on her side and prepared to sleep.

He was such a puzzle. Something had been wrong with him tonight before they talked.

_And why did he take back the cloak?_

**

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**

**A/N: I have now written over 80,000 words in this story, which is a small novel.**

**I know, 'big deal'. Lots of authors on this site have written multiple novels.**

**_But,_ this is my _first_ one and when I started this story, I never thought it would become a _novel_.**

**Thank you dear readers, and especially those of you who review. Your words are always inspiring.**


	28. Chapter 28 Party

**A/N: the reference to Erik's birthday is taken from Susan Kay's novel 'Phantom'.**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 28 Party**

Wrapping the cloak about her, Jade braced herself against the swaying carriage as she tried not to jostle Manette. Her friend was leaning back against the seat with her eyes closed.

Jean reached over, and took Manette's hand. "Are you tired, darling?" he asked solicitously.

Manette nodded 'yes' and remained silent.

Watching Manette closely, Jade wondered if she had been bothered with morning sickness or other problems since the onset of her pregnancy. So far, she looked fine.

_She looks quite beautiful, _she mused as she admired her serenity. Manette's rising hormones were generating the classic "glow" of pregnancy. She was a lovely Venus swelling with new life. .

She changed seats with Jean who put his arm around his wife for the remainder of the trip.

_They're perfect for each other, _Jade thought. Well matched, both were artists who loved their work. Their youthful spirits and happiness would provide abundance for their child. _It will be a wonderful beginning for all of them when the baby arrives, _she thought with pleasure.

Staring out the window, she noted the foot traffic that milled about under the streetlights. They were going to be late for the party. But Jean had said that it wouldn't be a problem if they left right after the performance.

Tonight's second performance of Aida had gone well. The opera house had a new rhythm now, that of a smooth running machine. Compared to the rest of the week, Jade's work had been relatively easy today. Maintaining an existing opera felt like coasting compared to staging a new one.

_Now I'm going to a party. _It still seemed strange that she had allowed them to talk her into it. She leaned back and gazed at her friends. These past weeks they had worked their way into her heart and she lacked the will to say no to them.

She was giving into people a lot these days. It was out of character for her. Last night, Erik had whispered into her ear, and moments later he was holding her hand and leading her through unknown passages. She had become downright docile with him.

Well, she had him to thank for her current state of comfort, and she was therefore indebted to him. The gown he had designed for her was a success. Because of it, there would be no embarrassment at this party. Nor would she be constantly squirming and struggling to do something as simple as walk across a room.

They passed a stylish couple standing on the street. The man was dressed in formal attire, and his female companion was in step with current fashion. The jewels on her fingers sparkled under the lamplight, as her hand rested on his arm.

Jade watched them for a moment, and then turned back to her friends.

Thank God Erik's gifts had stopped with the gown and shoes, and he had not tried to drape her with trinkets! The gown was acceptable, but jewelry would have made her very uneasy. She had just gotten use to the idea of him being a friend. If he came to her with flowers and baubles, it would be too strange to bear.

She had felt the sexual tension emanating from him last night. The way he had looked at her breasts and lips, it was unmistakable. But there had been something else in his eyes as they sat listening to the opera, a touch of sorrow. It was completely foreign to see him that way and it had brought out a protective side of her. If he had tried to kiss her, she would have let him, even if it were just to see his mocking air return.

_I'm glad he didn't try, _she concluded. Erik was utterly unpredictable. Instinctively, she knew that with him, a kiss wouldn't simply be a kiss. With a man as passionate and mysterious as he, who knew where it would end?

The carriage stopped in front of the apartment house.

Manette and Jean went upstairs to change as Jade walked around the sitting room. It was good to be back in their home. If they invited her to stay the night, she would. Then the three of them could spend the morning talking as they told her about their future plans over breakfast. She assumed that things had changed since they realized that Manette was pregnant.

Running her fingers along the embroidery that bordered her breasts, she stopped in front of the mirror and admired her gown. The excitement of stepping out with her friends and visiting strangers reminded her of an event years before. At that time, another gown had been designed for her. She was sixteen and going to a party…

0000

"Hold your head up, Jade. There. Now turn around, I want to see the back."

Jade's mother was adjusting the skirt and bodice of her new gown. She was hovering around her and giving her an unusual amount of attention as she softly spoke out loud to herself and to her daughter. Jade stood very still as her mother's fingers lightly pulled the fabric into place. The older woman's quiet and melodious voice filled Jade's ears and drowned out the tune playing in her head. If she didn't move, perhaps her mother would stay by her side longer as she continued to examine the gown.

Looking into the mirror, Jade could barely breathe. The corset that she was laced into felt like a cage around her middle. She scarcely recognized herself. Her youthful breasts were bulging slightly over the décolletage and her waist was absolutely tiny. She had allowed her mother to pour her into the gown, and trusted that she would guide her through this mysterious social event.

Her parents had been talking about it for the last month, via sly references. They wouldn't explain the details to her. All she knew was that there would be several other girls there her age and that it was a special enough occasion that people were coming from a distance to attend.

It was a long ride to the party, about an hour. Jade watched the countryside roll by the carriage window, and noted how lush the vineyards were this year. It would probably be a good harvest. She assumed that the party was a pre-harvest celebration. The neighbors had been beaming for the last two weeks about their future profits, and her father had been busily signing contracts with them.

As they stepped out of the carriage and approached the large country house, Jade recalled the instructions her parents had given her earlier that day.

"Keep still, and pay attention to what's going on around you. None of that daydreaming that you're so fond of. If a young man asks you to dance, then do it," her father had sternly told her. His lips barely moved as he succinctly gave orders.

Her mother had a mildly worried air, and gently said, "It's a party, and there will be young men there that may wish to dance with you. Just let the man lead and don't speak to him except about your father's business." She paused and thought for a moment, and then added, "It would also be proper to speak of our Sunday church meetings."

The room she entered didn't look like the usual social gathering at the church. It was luxurious by country standards and very large. There were at least fifty people in it. In one corner, five girls about her age were leaning towards each other and talking. Jade gulped when her mother took her arm and led her towards them.

The girls looked at her with curiosity, but when she distanced herself from them by not joining in their conversation, they ignored her.

As the evening progressed, Jade watched the social dance unfold between the girls and young men, and quickly understood why she was there. The coy behavior of the girls, and the puffed up and sometimes awkward manner of the young men, was tedious at best. The girls had been brought there to be chosen or to at least show their wares. She recalled watching visitors come to M. Solari's farm as they sized up future brood mares for purchase. It was to be the same here. That was why she had to keep her mouth shut. If she spoke, she might frighten away a future husband and master.

There was no problem with the dancing. Her mother had shown her a few steps before they left. She simply let the lads push and pull her about as she lightly followed. One of her partners was rather clumsy, and continually threatened to step on her feet, but she adroitly avoided mishaps. All the while, she listened to the music in her mind and only partly heard the flowery and rather dull tunes the musicians played.

The young men focused on her tiny waist and hands, and her green eyes. They chatted about their family's business, and she replied with an occasional comment. Her cool detachment was attractive to some, but she was indifferent to them.

When at last they returned to their home, Jade quickly stepped out of her prison with the help of her mother. As she waited in her room, the house eventually grew quiet and her parents retired for the night. Then she opened her window and slipped out.

Running across the fields, she unbound her long hair so that the breeze could finger it. The moon was nearly full, and everything around her was magical and wild. She heard the cry of the hawk calling to its mate as she reveled in her freedom. Stopping at the edge of the lake, she stood there for a few moments, and then whistled.

Jean-Luc came out of the shadows and took her in his arms.

They lay in the grass and talked about their day. Jean-Luc laughed wholeheartedly when he heard about the dance, and the partner whose feet she had repeatedly dodged. He pulled her closer to him and gently kissed her brow. Jade tilted her face up to him and smiled her joy as she looked into his eyes.

Her parents would never allow her to marry him. He had no money or land. But he had her heart, and that was enough.

0000

The sound of Jean coming down the stairs pulled Jade out of her reverie, and she looked up at him. He was smiling broadly, and gave her a small, playful bow. A minute later, Manette followed in her fashionable dress. Her earlier fatigue was gone, and her eyes shone brightly with anticipation.

They arrived an hour later at the grand house. Multiple lights bathed the entry way with a distinguished glow as carriages pulled up and unloaded their passengers. The three walked up the wide steps together and entered the foyer. Jade's and Manette's eyes swept the room, as they took in the sumptuous décor of marble floors, high ceilings, and elaborate wood and plaster moldings.

Their cloaks were taken and they entered the salon.

The room was a luxurious arrangement of velvet curtains, hothouse flowers, and stylish furniture. Multiple large paintings graced the wall. They were introduced to their hostess and host, and then made themselves comfortable in a corner of the room.

Seated beside an enormous potted plant, Jean sipped the wine and helped himself to the refreshments. He looked around the room, and spied Verdi and his wife who had a score of people gathered around them. Turning to his companions, he said, "Madame and Mademoiselle, please inform me when you are ready to meet the Verdis." Jean had an impish look to him as he grinned.

Manette restrained the urge to make a face at her joking husband, and turned to Jade. "Did Jean tell you how we came to be invited to this salon tonight?"

Jade shook her head 'no'. She had wondered about that when they had first tried to persuade her to come with them.

"Jean is related to Verdi's French publishers, the Estudiers." Manette continued.

"Yes, Jade," Jean said as he wagged his head, "I come from a family of illustrious publishers."

"Do not let his joking put you off," Manette advised. "Jean's family is superb and has wonderful connections."

After finishing her wine and food, Jade rose and walked around the perimeter of the room. The brightly colored paintings were calling to her. One in particular caught her eye, a small picture to the side of a larger one. She stood in front of it and studied the technique. It was quite different from anything she had seen before. The layered pigments shimmered in the lamplight, as the ballerinas before her dipped and posed. For a moment, she felt that she was back in the opera house watching dancers casually warm up their muscles. The depiction fascinated her.

"That is a Degas. Do you know his work? He is relatively new."

At her elbow was a blonde haired man in a stylish suit. Jade turned to him and was immediately drawn to his earnest and kind face.

The man gave her a small bow and said, "Raoul de Chagny, at your service, Mademoiselle."

"I am Jade Bouta," she replied. She turned back to the picture and looked for the artist's signature.

"He is one of the impressionists. They had a show in Paris this year." Her companion spoke casually and moved closer to her as he examined the picture. His hair had a fresh, clean smell.

"Impressionist?" she asked distantly as she followed the flowing lines of the figures.

"Yes. Do you see how the lines are blurred to enhance the effect of light in the picture? It gives it a soft, almost dream-like appearance."

"Yes," she replied. "I can see that." She turned to her companion who smiled charmingly.

"Thank you for your insights, Monsieur de Chagny." Then giving him a nod, she returned to her friends.

Jean and Manette were talking with a young man and woman when Jade returned.

"Don't be ridiculous. You have never read poetry until you've read Rimbaud." The foppish looking man seemed outraged over Jean's disagreement.

At the word poetry, Jade perked up and took a seat in their circle.

For the next half hour, Jean and Louis traded barbs over each other's ignorance of the arts. Jean held his own and enjoyed browbeating his opponent. Finally, the young woman with the honey colored hair and violet gown rolled her eyes at the two and then shifted her focus to Jade.

"I am Gabrielle. I have been admiring your dress since I came into the room. It is a type of aesthetic dress, is it not?" She had beautiful cornflower blue eyes that fixed intelligently on Jade's face.

Jade looked down, as she was unsure of what to say. She had no idea what an aesthetic dress was.

Manette smoothly interceded and spoke for her friend. "I thought the same, the first time I saw it. It does have a Pre-Raphaelite look to it. Although, I would have to say that I believe the designer has gone a step further. The embroidery is boldly done and adds a flare to the gown."

Gabrielle nodded in agreement, and then turned back to Jade, who was looking at her silently.

The people gathered around the Verdis were drifting away. Seeing his chance, Jean signaled to his companions to follow.

A distinguished looking M.Verdi was grasping the top of his cane with some impatience. He appeared to be tired of being the center of attention. Jean walked up to him and then bowed to his companion.

Verdi's eyes lit up and he turned to the woman at his side. "Giuseppina my dear, here is the man I was telling you about. This is Monsieur Jean DuBois who designs sets for the Opera Populaire. Monsieur DuBois, I would like you to meet my wife, Madame Guiseppina Verdi." Verdi smiled at her and then looked back to Jean.

The older woman extended her hand to Jean and gave him a gracious smile.

Jean introduced his companions and then sat down to discuss opening night with Verdi. Jade took a seat across from Madame Verdi and let the other women carry the conversation, as she dreamily looked about the room. So far, the evening had been very interesting. She wondered if Erik would enjoy poetry written by Rimbaud. She would need to talk with Louis before they left and ask where she could purchase…

"Mlle Bouta." Jade looked up at the stately woman who was addressing her. "Are you fond of dancing, my dear?"

Surprised by the quickness of her own response, Jade answered, "Yes, Madame, if I am with the right partner."

The three other women laughed merrily at her answer.

A little later, Verdi gave a brief look to his wife who nodded slightly in return. He rose, and took her hand as they said their good byes. His wife murmured something into his ear and he turned to Manette and Jade.

"Mme. DuBois, Giusippena and I would like to have you and your husband, M. Dubois, and Mlle. Bouta join us for supper tomorrow, if you are not already engaged."

Jean beamed and glanced at his companions. Manette was smiling at the older man while Jade stared blankly at him.

"Of course Monsieur, we would be delighted to come," replied Manette.

Jean walked out with the Verdis as Jade stood there slowly blinking. Manette tipped her head towards the door, and gently put her hand on Jade's arm.

0000

Jade rode back to the opera house. Jean and Manette had invited her to stay the night with them, but she had declined. She wasn't interested in hearing their arguments about why she should join them for supper tomorrow. Tonight's party was the only concession she planned to make this weekend. Dining with 'the Maestro", as Jean was so fond of calling him, was out of the question.

She returned to her room, and unlocked her door. Turning on the gaslight, she slipped out of the gown and hung it up. Then after lighting a candle on the table, she put on her robe and went to bed. She expected that he would be coming tonight, and had left the door unbolted.

A half hour later, the key turned in the lock and Erik entered. Nonchalantly, he walked to the table, picked up a chair, and carried it to the side of her bed. Sitting down, he faced her.

His cape was open and exposed his waistcoat and chest. Of all the people she had seen tonight, none of them had his grace or presence.

"How was your visit with Verdi tonight, my dear?" he asked casually.

Jade hadn't mentioned her plans to him, but it didn't surprise her that he knew of them. He seemed to know about everything that occurred in 'his opera house'. However, she would have enjoyed knowing what he was thinking when he snagged that piece of information.

"I was introduced to him but we didn't speak. However, he did invite me to join him and his wife for supper tomorrow," she replied.

Erik raised his eyebrow slightly and looked at her steadily. It came to her that Erik might be interested in meeting M.Verdi. She wanted to ask him but decided against it. Again, she wondered what it was like to have his extraordinary abilities but always be limited by a mask.

"Will you go?" he asked her directly.

"No," she answered quietly. "I wouldn't have anything to say to them."

She pulled the bed covers a little closer to herself. It was one thing to be occasionally docile and let others lead you around, but she would not be persuaded to make a complete fool of herself.

Looking up at Erik, she noted his slight smile. _I must be an open book to him, _she thought with some discomfort.

"Jade, I think that you would find it interesting to meet with him. Verdi has a good mind. And you underestimate yourself if you think that he would not be interested in you."

It was the first time that Erik had paid her a compliment. She looked at him closely to see if he was being sincere. There were feelings in his eyes that she didn't fully understand: kindness, yes, but something else.

Then it came again, the same temptation that she had had in the carriage ride from the cemetery: the desire to reach across that small distance and touch him. A quick caress with her hand along the line of his jaw would be very satisfying.

She held her hands together and resisted the urge. She was alone with him, and in her bed. A gesture like that could be regarded as meaning much more. This wasn't the place or time to initiate such intimacies.

Jade looked away and a silence fell between them. The light sounds of their breathing filled the space around them as neither one spoke.

Eventually, she threw off her covers and hopped out of bed. Walking to the dresser, she picked up a small book, and held it out to him.

"I'm sorry that this isn't new, but I first heard about the author tonight. The man who gave this to me says that he is a great poet."

Erik's head was bowed, and he was staring at the book that she was holding. It seemed an eternity before he finally took it.

_I've insulted him, _Jade thought with sadness. _I should have waited until I could find a new copy before I gave him a gift._

Moving back onto the bed, she pulled the covers over herself as she sat with her back to the headboard. She stared at his knees, and was a little afraid to look at his face, and see the disappointment that might be there.

Shutting her eyes, she tried to think of something to say.

The touch of leather to her face was unexpected but she still kept her eyes closed. His fingers slowly slid beneath the line of her jaw and came to her chin. Then they lightly lifted it up.

She opened her eyes and looked into his.

There was much warmth there, a fiery heat. She basked in it for a moment, and then shyly looked down. He released her chin and stood up.

As he headed to the door, he paused. With his back to her, he spoke.

"There will be a carriage waiting for you after you attend mass tomorrow, if you wish to visit the cemetery." Then he opened the door and left.

After turning off the gaslight, Jade lay there and watched the candle burn out. When it was dark again, she relived his touch.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Erik placed the book on his worktable, and stared at it for a moment. It had been well read. Some of the pages were curled and the cover had small stains on it, as if it had spent many an hour in a local café.

After his bath, he made his way to the bedroom, and carried his gift.

Stretching out on the bed, Erik stared at the book in his hands, and thought of his first birthday gift. It was a book from a woman, who had pitied him. He had been a small boy, who knew nothing of birthdays. On that same day, his mother had promised him a present of his choice. Since she had never kissed him, he had asked for two kisses. She had refused.

The child in him was hungry for the kisses that had never come. When Jade handed him the book, she awoke that desire

Erik sighed deeply. If he had not left so quickly, he would have done much more than touch her face tonight.

The candles shone brightly by his bed as he relaxed, and paged through the poems. Some of the phrases were exquisite, and the patterning of words was original. The author was indeed a fine poet.

Setting the book aside, he blew out the candles, and waited for sleep. When he finally drifted into oblivion, two images floated before him.

The first was Christine, the tender and beautiful child he had loved from the moment he first saw her. It had been easy to believe that she was his, and would be with him forever.

The other was a refreshing, small brook that coursed to the ocean. It tempted him to come into the sunlight.

As he dipped his feet into its water, it carried him away. The coolness changed to warmth, and the water became flesh, as it wrapped itself around him. The eyes beside him were green and deep enough to swim in. Eagerly he reached for her lips.

Erik sighed and smiled in his sleep.


	29. Chapter 29 Attachment

**Chapter 29 Attachment**

The little girl in the red cloak bobbed in rhythm with the horse that circled the pen. A ruby bloom flooded her cheeks, as she grasped his mane and clung to his back.

"Jade," Gillian squealed with excitement when the chestnut gelding gently picked up the pace.

Jade stood in the center of the pen, and firmly held the lead line. Her steady gaze carefully followed the horse's stride. The chestnut gelding was moving slowly and deliberately, as if intensely aware of his tiny cargo. His burnished coat rippled over his muscles, and flashed in the noonday sun.

When the lesson was finished, they returned to the stable, with Jade leading the horse and child through the arched door. Paul Rascon looked up from the harness he was mending, and watched them enter the stall.

A smile of approval slipped from him as Jade removed the horse's halter, and brought the little girl's hand to his nose. All the while, she spoke to the animal and child in a low and gentle voice.

Her quiet movements appealed to Rascon. He'd been around horses most of his life but he hadn't seen anyone work with animals as she did. At least half of her time was spent watching and listening before she laid her hands on a new one. When she finally touched the horse, it was with certainty and tenderness as if they were already old friends.

Lately, he'd been thinking of bringing his boy over to watch her work. It couldn't hurt for him to learn some of her ways. And it would be good for the boy to get out of that dismal house.

0000

Jade and Gillian walked down the bridle path, as they carried their lunches. Now that the day had warmed, the lawn in front of them was an inviting carpet of green. Unfurling the blanket, they unpacked their food, and sat down.

The child ate ravenously. Jade noticed that Gillian's skirt was hiking above her thin calves as she sat cross-legged. She was rapidly outgrowing her clothes and needed an entirely new wardrobe. The cape Jade had given her today was just a start.

After their meal, Jade lay on her side, and watched the little girl run through the grass as she chased large, flying insects. Her flaxen hair flew out like sparks against the fiery red hood as she twisted and reached for bits of iridescent color.

It was funny how things worked out. This child that she loved was six years old, and it was nearly seven years ago that Jean-Luc had left her. If she'd had a child with him, she would be about Gillian's age.

_Life and death, _she thought. Shutting her eyes, she recalled her trip to the cemetery earlier in the day.

The carriage had been waiting for her after Mass as Erik had promised. It gave her extra time to visit Meley's grave.

The single flower that she had placed next to the headstone softened its bleakness. As she stared at the whorl of velvety petals, its beauty eased her distress. The man beneath the stone was dead, and was already fulfilling a new purpose. His disintegrating body would replenish the earth and foster new life.

Jade pondered over the significance of Meley's lost life. What had he accomplished? What had he struggled for and loved?

Those unknowns bothered her. _If one takes another's life, one should at least understand the value of that life, _she thought sadly. That was the problem with killing. _To act as if one has the power of God, but in the end, to know nothing._

The dull ache of her knees changed to a burning pain with tiny jabs slicing through her skirt. It was time for her to go. A few people were walking in the cemetery, as they visited ghosts and polished head stones that gleamed hollowly in the morning sun. They scarcely noticed her as she stiffly climbed to her feet, and leaned on Meley's head stone to get her footing.

Suddenly, Jade was pulled back to the present. Gillian's hand was grasping hers as she thrust a handful of seed heads and brightly colored insects close to Jade's face.

Later, as they returned to the stable, she looked down at the child by her side, whose pockets were brimming with this afternoon's souvenirs. The little girl merrily kicked stones along the path and further scuffed her worn out shoes.

If Jade had a more substantial income, she could adopt her. It warmed her heart to think of Gillian becoming hers. She could care for her, and give her the love that children needed to feel whole. She would protect her from a cold world that damaged those who lacked a loving family.

She didn't have enough money, at least not yet. But somehow, she would find a way to get it.

0000

The rest of the afternoon they spent walking in Paris. It was a chance to study the various styles of architecture, and stroll along the famous boulevards of the city. The calm, autumn day was perfect for exploring. The sidewalks were peppered with Parisians enjoying their great city and its abundant attractions.

Gillian was a pretty sight in her bright, red cloak. Couples would pause and admire the pale haired little girl, who skipped next to her companion. She was chattering continuously about the dresses of the older ballet girls, the excitement of opening night, and about everything that she saw at that moment.

They were in a part of the city where musicians and street performers staked out street corners to take advantage of the Sunday foot traffic. Some of the artists stood quietly between their performances, leaning against any available post or wall. Then suddenly, they would come to life with bold gestures and ringing voices, as their eyes darted through the crowd. A lanky, harlequin clad juggler enchanted the child and woman with a display of spinning balls and flying objects. Jade gave Gillian a coin for him, and she clapped her tiny hands excitedly when the man smiled, and bowed deeply to her as he pocketed his wage.

Keeping a firm hold on Gillian's hand, Jade walked along the busy streets and watched the people. Occasionally, they passed a raggedy child with sharp, hungry eyes who was looking for work or a quick theft. It hurt her to see them, as she recalled her own desperate introduction to the city. She gave two of them her last coins, and said a silent prayer for the rest.

After a long, full day, they returned to the opera house in time for Gillian 's supper.

0000

The staff quarters were quiet when Jade finally climbed the stairs to her room. Her clothes were laid out on the bed, waiting for tonight's event. Manette and Jean would be picking her up in about an hour, which gave her enough time to get ready for the meal with Monsieur and Madame Verdi.

In the end, Erik's comment had swayed her. If a man who hid himself from others thought it was a good idea for her to have supper with a famous composer, then it might be wise to do so. After all, she needn't say much. She was good at keeping her mouth shut and making only an occasional comment, and that would probably be all that was needed. Perhaps there would be other things to interest her there that would make the trip worthwhile.

She was combing her hair in front of the mirror when there was a knock on her door. Opening it, she recognized the young man she had met on Friday night.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Bouta," said Michel Aubert with a hoarse voice. She watched as his pronounced Adam's apple rose and dipped while he spoke. He looked tired and agitated as he hung at her door.

"Good evening, Michel." Jade tried to keep the surprise from her voice. What was he doing here?

Michel fidgeted on her doorstep until she invited him in.

He slouched wearily into the chair, and followed her with his eyes as she approached, and then looked at her intensely when she sat down. Her flesh began to creep and she caught her breath. Something was clearly wrong.

"Why are you here, Michel?" she asked softly and slowly, as she stared at him.

Quickly, he spoke, eager to be finished with his mission. "Mademoiselle, my uncle Pierre is not well, and my grandmother sent me to ask for your help." Then he let out an explosive sigh.

"What has happened?" she asked calmly although her heart began to race. Whatever Pierre's illness was, it must be bad if a stranger was asking for her help.

Michel looked into her eyes and explained.

His uncle had returned to their village on Friday after his business trip to a nearby province. Several days before, his leg had been cut while he was out in the fields, and he'd developed a mild fever the last day of his trip. His grandmother had given Pierre herbs, but the fever had rapidly gotten worse. This morning, it was high, and they could do nothing to bring it down.

"Uncle Pierre told us about how you cared for two horses that were very sick, and healed them. Grandmother wants you to come tonight, and help him."

It was seven o'clock, and most of the trains had stopped running. The trip would take several hours by horse.

Jade got up and immediately started to pack.

While Michel carried her bag down to the horses, Jade slipped into her breeches and tunic. It would be a long ride and it was pointless to wear a skirt. Her cloak would cover her from prying eyes. She packed the last of the botanicals she had been collecting for such an occasion. Ever since she had recovered from her own fever, she had been buying herbs and other medicines in case of another fever or illness.

Sitting at the table, she wrote three letters. The first was to DuChant, explaining her absence. She wasn't worried about getting his approval to leave work. He was a good friend of Pierre's, and he'd understand.

The second was for Jean, who would be arriving at any moment to collect her.

The last was for Erik.

She wished that she could wait for Erik's visit tonight. He'd be able to help her formulate the best medicine for the fever. His knowledge was deeper than hers. And since he had assisted her with the horses, she was confident that he would be able to help her friend.

But there wasn't time to wait. She would have to make do with what she already knew.

Propping Erik's letter against a candlestick on the table, she gathered the last of her things and left the room. She tacked Jean's note to the door, and then walked quickly down the hall.

Michel waited for her at the management offices with a letter of his own. After slipping their letters under the door, they rushed to the stables.

The horses were saddled and ready. Michel tied her bag to the saddle, and she climbed onto her mount.

It was nighttime and the street traffic was sparse. They moved along quickly as they worked their way through miles of streets towards the city's edge.

Pierre had once described to her his biweekly trip to Paris. After his wagon was loaded, it took about four hours to get to the market place. On a good mount, it would be faster. Michel had ridden slowly to Paris so as not to wear out his horse. Now they pushed on as fast as their horses would tolerate.

She didn't like the description of Pierre's fever. It sounded like blood poisoning. In her pouch was the last of the salve that Erik had given her for the roan mare. It would help the wound, but not the fever.

Glancing at the tall man who was her guide, she noticed that the fatigue had left him. He was sitting straight with his chin up and head jutting forward. His determined air cut through the darkness, and her fear.

The thought of Pierre lying in pain and confusion maddened her. She fought the sense of desperation that had been riding her since Michel had given her the news. _He must not die, _she repeated over and over as a mystical mantra to keep him alive.

_Dear God, _she prayed. _Please let me get there in time._

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Erik leaped from the catwalks above the stage, and worked his way through the multitude of ropes that hung there. He was passing the time with exercise as he considered one of his projects.

There was a ridiculously rich man who had come to Jules and wanted a plan for a home in Russia. He was determined that the design would come from Paris's 'hidden' architect. The commission had caught Erik's interest. Some aspects of the design posed a challenge, and he enjoyed architectural puzzles. The time Erik had spent in Russia gave him the experience to develop a regional style for the building so that it would not look like a foreign transplant. And there was a special request that the slant of the windows allow maximum penetration of winter sun. He remembered the harsh Russian winters where sunlight was scarce, and grimaced as he reached for the rope.

Barely sweating, he twisted the rope in his hands and rapidly pulled himself along its length. His arm muscles knotted, and his powerful legs wrapped around the rough fiber as he snaked up to the ceiling. He grasped the batton of a nearby backdrop and swung across the backstage as his cape twirled behind.

He was looking forward to seeing Jade tonight after her supper with Verdi. What would she think of Paris's musical elite?

His lips tingled as he recalled Jade sitting on the bed last night with her eyes closed while he briefly caressed her face.

In spite of his undeniable passion for Christine, he had decided to pursue Jade. She was too precious to let slip away. Fate had brought her to him, and he would accept the gift.

He would not deny himself another chance for happiness.

As for Jade's feelings for him…

His jaw tightened and his eyes blazed. _She will come to love me, and I will make her happy._

Balancing upon the shifting backdrop, he lunged for the rope and spiraled down to the empty stage below.

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It was nearly seven o'clock when Erik entered the back passages of the staff quarters. He could not resist spying on her before she left.

As he approached the mirror, the soft glow told him that she was there. Stepping closer, he stood silently, and watched her run the brush through her dark hair. The steady, stroking motion soothed him, and he leaned against the wall with half closed eyes. The gaslight cast a halo over her hair that blended with its naturally healthy gloss. Her eyes were dreamily shut as she too enjoyed the firm stroke of the brush.

Her hair had grown since she had come to the opera house. It was noticeably longer. She was wearing her Sunday clothes, which were a cut above the usual.

He had enjoyed making the green gown for her. In addition, there was a pile of sketches on his worktable for future ideas. He found it entertaining to design clothing that suited her passionate need for freedom, and yet still remained in the realm of fashion. Half of the sketches were for unfashionable outfits that she would wear when she joined him in his home below. Some of the new fabrics recently imported from Japan and made in the style of a modified kimono would look charming on her. He could see her curled up on his sofa with a pattern of wild orchids and trailing stems flowing across her lovely breasts as she listened to his music.

The hard rap on the door pulled him out of his reverie.

A tall, young man stood in the hall and waited. Erik stepped closer to the mirror, and watched.

When the boy had finished his story, she quickly pulled out her travel bag. Clenching his fists, Erik watched her for a moment and then abruptly left.

The management offices were unlit, but he easily navigated through them. Once in DuChant's office, he went straight to the hidden cash box. Picking the lock, he removed what he would need. Then he strode to the stable.

The black stallion greeted him with a nudge to his chest, and he gave the big animal a loving pat. He saddled the horse, and then quietly led him out of the stable, and past the two horses that waited in the street. There he stood in the shadows until Jade and the boy mounted their animals and left.

He stayed far enough behind them so as to remain undetected. Once they got out of the city, there would be neighboring communities to pass through before they came to the open road. He could follow at a safe distance and still keep track of them. His horse had a fondness for the woman, so he would indicate if she moved too far ahead or left the road.

Erik's lips tightened as he thought of his rival lying in bed, and burning with fever. There was a risk that she would become more attached to the man as she nursed him back to health.

_If luck is on my side, she will arrive too late to help him._

The city lights slipped behind him, as Erik settled into his saddle for the long ride ahead.


	30. Chapter 30 Succor

**A/N: A historical note---Homeopathic medicine was discovered in the late eighteenth century and was practiced in Europe by select physicians and lay healers. The use of water cures for various ailments was also done at that time in certain clinics and healing centers.**

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**Chapter 30 Succor**

Escaping the tumult of Paris, Jade and Michel slipped out of the city's encasement of streets, traffic, and a million people. Pushing on as fast as they dared, the muffled sounds of their horses' hooves rose from the rutted road accompanied by dirt that lined their nostrils.

Jade was blessed with a mount that had a smooth, rocking gait. Michel was not as fortunate. She could almost hear his teeth rattle each time his horse broke into a churning trot as hard feet hit unyielding ground. While listening to his occasional grunt of discomfort, she wondered if there was a chance that he would be willing to trade horses for at least a short while. But she doubted it. _He's a gentleman like his uncle Pierre._

In that first hour after leaving the city there was a sense of urgency. As she sat with her heels clenching the horse's side, she felt the miles slowly and painfully trickle by. With tight muscles, she impatiently stared into the thick darkness.

They were passing through villages that hugged the outskirts of Paris. The glimmering lights of household lamps languidly appeared ahead, and then drifted by like the detritus that lazily circles in a stagnant pond. Speed was what they needed, and she found their pace maddening. If she had cared less for the animals and the possibility of torn ligaments and lameness, she would have kicked her mount, and raced to her friend's side.

The weather was in their favor tonight. The sky was clear and without a cloud, so there was no chance of rain. Nor was it particularly cold.

But what good was it to have a dry, fast road if they traveled at a snail's pace?

Michel rode silently beside her, a stranger who cared no more for small talk than she did.

She glanced at her companion's tall silhouette, and wondered what he was thinking. He hadn't said a word since they'd left the city. He'd looked a bit haggard when he first came to her room tonight, and then relieved when she'd pulled out her travel bag to return with him.

After awhile, Jade's nerves began to calm as the rhythm of the road took hold of her. The snorting and sighing of the horses intermingled with the darkness and sprinkling of light from above soothed her. She looked up at the sky, and twisted around to take in its panorama. Thick streaks of pale stardust covered the black ceiling, and the bright iridescence of Venus hung from night's throat like a newly cut gem. It was peaceful on the road. She took in a deep breath and held the cool air in. The last time she had seen such a sky was the night before she had come to Paris in September, which seemed a long time ago.

_It's been nearly two months._

A great deal had happened since then. There was her sojourn on the streets of Paris, her meeting with Pierre, and her life at the Opera Populaire. Her new life had brought her beauty, friendship, and adventure. And of course, there was Erik, who was the most extraordinary part of it all.

The thought of her bounty warmed her, and she affectionately patted the neck of her horse that swished his tail in response.

Pierre was the key to her present happiness. Having given her security and an abundance of kindness, he had enabled her to trust others.

_He's been like a guardian angel, _she mused.

As they continued on, the tightness gradually dropped from her shoulders, and she lost the twisted feeling that had crept through her stomach since Michel's news of Pierre.

Her friend's illness sounded serious, but at that moment, she decided that to worry was useless. She needed to be clear-headed if she was to help him.

Lifting her chin, she rose slightly in the saddle, and absently stared past the darkness as she reviewed her knowledge of fever remedies. _Belladonna is for high fever with chills, skin burning hot, pulse pounding. Arsenicum is for excessive restlessness and agitation, with fear of death, and fever worse after midnight._ She recited the indications for each remedy that she carried in her bag.

The horses broke into a trot, and Michel's tall form rigidly bounced in his saddle as they descended another hill, and inched closer to their destination.

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They arrived in the village at about eleven o'clock. A half hour later, Michel led the horses away as Jade stood in front of the lone, country house. The two storied, stone building rested below large trees that draped their branches over its roof. It looked old, and she wondered how long it had been there giving shelter to Pierre's family. The lower windows glowed with a welcoming, golden light, as if its inhabitants were reaching out with open arms to lonely travelers.

_It's me, _she whispered. _They're waiting for me._

Shifting her weight, she rocked back and forth on her heels, and finally walked to the door. As she raised her fist to knock, it slowly swung open, and a gray haired woman stood in the doorway silently staring at her. She swept her eyes over Jade's dusty cloak, and then recognition lit up her weathered face. Smiling, she reached out, and grasped Jade's hands.

"Mademoiselle Bouta! Thank you for coming. I am Claire Aubert, Pierre's mother."

She pulled Jade into the house to the front room, which was full of lamps and candles. Eyes stared at them as the door was firmly shut.

A woman with auburn hair and a black embroidered shawl got up from the sofa, and walked towards them with a smooth, dignified gait. She was followed by a younger woman who didn't look much older than Jade. Two girls with bright, curious faces trailed behind.

Claire held Jade's hands firmly, and spoke. "Here is Mlle. Bouta, Pierre's friend from Paris. Mlle. Bouta, these are my daughters, Marie and Therese."

Stepping up to Jade, the youngest woman excitedly took one of her hands, and then cried, "Mlle. Bouta, we've been waiting for you all day!" Her eyes were soft and warm, and Jade saw Pierre's sincerity in them.

Claire interrupted, and guided Jade towards the kitchen. "Tsk, tsk Marie. She will be tired from her long ride. Let her sit down and have something to eat." She pulled a wooden chair out from the table, and motioned for Jade to sit.

Jade hesitated and the women looked at her expectantly.

"Mme. Aubert, thank you for your hospitality. But if you please, I'd like to see Pierre first," she said in a firm voice.

Nodding slowly, Claire signaled for Jade to follow. They walked side by side down a dim corridor as Claire leaned towards the younger woman, and spoke in a low voice.

"His fever has been high all day and sometimes he has a strong chill. We gave him extra blankets to make him as comfortable as we can."

"What medicines have you been giving him?" Jade asked. Claire explained the herbs she had used for the fever, and Jade made a mental note.

Stopping outside of the door at the end of the hall, Claire turned to Jade and gave her a steady look. "He's called for you several times in his sleep today." Then she smiled faintly, and opened the door.

The room was softly lit with a brace of candles and a small fire. Pierre lay stretched out on the bed covered by blankets, with his eyes closed.

Jade went to his side, and stood over him.

His flushed face was dry and still, and had a heavy quality. The air felt stuffy around him, as if he had emptied it of oxygen. Touching his forehead with the back of her hand, she felt an intense heat. His lips were cracked, and he breathed loudly through his mouth as if he were trying to strip the room of its last bit of air. She would have liked to have opened the windows, but decided against it. They would need to keep the room warm for what was to come.

Resting her fingers on the pulse at his throat, the throbbing vessel hit them forcefully and nearly threw off her touch. She placed her hand on his cheek, and then slowly ran it along the stubble to his cheek.

Seeing him was easier than imagining his pain from afar, and she sighed with relief. _I'm here, dear friend. I will not leave you, _she said to him silently, and then smiled gently.

She pulled back the covers and searched for the cut. It was bandaged with a poultice, which covered the wound's angry, red edges. The poultice had done some good since the pus was minimal. Jade thanked God that Pierre had an attentive mother to care for him.

Michel had come in, and was watching the women silently as he held Jade's bag.

Turning to Claire, Jade asked, "Can you bring a tub in the room so that we can bathe him?"

"Yes. Michel, help me bring the tub in from the bath," Claire said firmly to her grandson.

While they filled the tub with tepid water, Jade went to another room and changed out of her riding clothes.

Pierre groaned when they lifted him out of bed, and thrashed around when they placed him in the water. Jade and Michel held him down as he moaned and cried out, until he finally went limp. Removing his bed shirt, Michel covered his groin with a towel, while Jade studied his color and reactions. Then she picked up a cloth and started to bathe the parts of him that were uncovered by water.

When the water began to cool, more hot water was added to keep it at body temperature, as she continued to run the wet cloth over him.

After a little while, Pierre awoke, and staring at her with feverish eyes, he whispered her name. Jade gently stroked his brow with the tips of her fingers, and then lightly kissed his forehead.

When his pounding pulse lost some of its force, she pulled a paper packet out of her medicine bag, and emptied its contents into his mouth.

Michel sat in the corner and watched them with heavy lidded eyes. Occasionally he nodded off with his chin dropping to his chest. Claire would bring in a fresh bucket of hot water, and then prod Michel who would jump up, and haul away the other bucket. Meanwhile, Jade moved the soaking wet cloth over Pierre as he lay in the tub, too weak to move.

Checking his pupils, Jade noted that they were no longer dilated from the fever. Beckoning Michel to help her, they hauled Pierre from the bath and after drying him, laid him on the bed. Another dose of the remedy was given, and she dressed his wound with the salve that Erik had made for the roan mare.

In an hour, the fever broke. Pierre let out a deep sigh as sweat covered him. Smiling, Jade gently tucked the blankets around him, and mopped the moisture from his face. She continued to spoon water laced with sauerkraut juice into his mouth as Claire retired to her bedchamber. She had been convinced by Jade that she would need her sleep if she was to take care of her son later in the day. Michel gratefully left as well, and went to his bed.

The danger was past but she wouldn't leave him. He still needed fluids. As she nursed him, she sang in a quiet voice the folk songs that he had sang to her when she was ill. When she finished them, she hummed the music in her mind while stroking his forehead and hair.

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Dawn broke and a faint light erased the shadows from Michel's sleeping face. A light tap on his door awoke him. Marie was telling him that she needed to sleep and that it was his turn to watch over Pierre and their guest. Stretching his long arms over his head, he yawned loudly, and then crawled out of his warm bed. Crossing the hall, he opened the bedroom door. Inside he found Jade slumped in the chair with her arm resting on his uncle's chest while Pierre slept peacefully beside her with his hand resting on top of hers.

They looked content. Although he knew he should awaken her, and lead her to the guest room, Michel thought it best to leave them alone for a few more minutes. Who knew when they might be this close again?

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Erik hid his horse, and moved cautiously towards the stone house. He crept to each window, and finally found the room that Pierre lay in. By then, Jade was already bending over the sick man and examining him.

Standing near the window, he watched her face as she stared down at the man. Feelings were shifting across it: concern, relief, and gentleness. When her touch lingered on his rival's cheek, Erik's jaw inadvertently clenched.

Jade asked for the tub of lukewarm water, and he nodded in agreement. _Clever girl, _he thought._ She knows something about fevers_.

The fire cast a golden light that surrounded the sick man and the woman who nursed him. Slowly the cloth slid along the man's body as she soothed away his fever. When she kissed him, the cold night grabbed Erik by the throat, and he swallowed hard to force down the injury.

When the fever broke, the look of relief and joy that crossed her face was as distinct as the sweat on the man's brow. Then the gray haired woman and boy left them alone.

Stepping closer to the window, Erik was pulled into their intimacy. He heard her soft voice singing the simple melodies to the man. When she hummed, he knew it was the music from her mind. Closing his eyes, he imgined her lying next to him with her throat vibrating softly against his. The image arose of great swans intertwining their white necks as they courted in the night.

Dawn was only a couple of hours away.

Erik left, and returned to his horse. The stallion nickered when he saw the dark cloaked man, and greeted him with a gentle head butt to the chest. Erik patted him, and then gave him a sweet that he had filched from DuChant's desk.

"Well my friend, we had better move if we want to escape the daylight."

Climbing onto the big horse, he nudged him with his heels, and they traveled back to the main road.

The inn was three miles away. Its modest stone structure was set back with an attached stable. Erik set up his horse in a stall, and then walked to the inn's entrance.

The man who opened the door barely glanced at the hooded, tall figure, as a pouch of money was thrust into his face accompanied by a gruff request for a room.

Moments later, Erik was lying on a bed with the door to his room firmly latched and his boots neatly placed on the floor. A knock on the door signaled an early breakfast.

After his meal, he stared out the window, and watched the delicate light advance. She would be going to bed about now. Someone in that household would have taken her under his or her wing and ushered her to a quiet room where she could slip under a down comforter and sleep. She may have saved the man's life, and his family would be grateful.

To the east of the inn some miles away was vine country, miles and miles of it. What was once beautiful land was by now probably decimated by the blight. It was on behalf of his rival's brother that Jade had asked Erik for advice concerning the grape blight. She would probably stay a little longer in order to build more trust with the family. Then she would carefully share her information about the vines with them. By then, they would have enough respect for her that they would take her advice seriously.

Dipping the cloth into the basin of water, he washed the grit from his face and body. It had been a long time since he had ventured this far from the city, and he was unaccustomed to the layer of dust that had worked its way into his skin's crevices.

After finishing his meticulous toilet, he stretched out on the bed. Then he relived what had occurred at the country house that night.

His rival had not died. And when he was fully recovered, he would pursue Jade with even greater determination than before.

Oddly enough, at that moment, Erik had little malice for the man. Jade's tender administrations in the sick room had touched him as well, and temporarily dismantled his normal ferocity.

He shut his eyes, and remembered her stroking the sleeping man's face while she sang to him. Watching her, he had suddenly felt his heart open. The hardness fell away, and at that moment, he knew that if it had been him lying there, she would have showered him with the same tenderness. His eyes widened as that feeling of grace rushed in.

Lying there, he allowed himself to believe that someone could care for him. A tear ran down his cheek and his chest tightened from the ache in his heart.

After the wave of emotion passed, his head cleared, and he turned to the situation before him.

He must decide what to do next. Clearly, if he left her here without intervening, his rival would have the upper hand and could sway her.

Erik considered his choices as he watched the day's light creep into the room and eat away the shadows.

A/N: Hello dear readers. When I finished chapter 6 of this story, somebody asked me how many chapters I planned to write. I said in an off hand way, "about 25 or 30". Well, here it is, chapter 30 and there's still more to be said. I hope you'll continue to stay with this and enjoy it.


	31. Chapter 31 Country

**A/N: the reference to Erik's life in Persia is taken from Susan Kay's novel Phantom. **

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**Chapter 31 Country**

Michel ran down the steep hill with short, fitful steps as he waved the flower above his head.

"Here," he said, handing it to Jade. The slender stem slipped between his tan fingers as he delicately laid the flower on her palm. His hands fell to his waist and opened with a teasing air of supplication while his black eyes eagerly pierced hers.

Holding the golden blossom to her nose, Jade twirled it lightly as she looked over its head at the lanky, young man. "Thank you, Michel." Her green eyes lightened as she held back a grin.

They walked side by side to the small bridge that straddled a stream. Leaning over the rail, Michel pulled a handful of pebbles from his pocket, and lobbed one into the water. As an afterthought, he offered Jade the pile of stones balanced on his calloused palm. She took several, and with a long, easy movement, tossed one in the same direction as his. The flat stone skipped across the taut, shining surface. Whistling appreciatively, Michel turned to her, and smiled broadly.

"Who taught you how to throw?" he asked, peering out from the long hair that draped his face. In his eagerness to walk with her, he'd forgotten to tie back his hair and the disarray gave him a wild look. He also looked a little giddy.

Shrugging, she tossed another stone. "A friend that I used to work with taught me."

"Where?" He narrowed his eyes and aimed. His long arm whipped the stone at a severe angle, and it cut the water several times.

Jade leaned on the bridge's rail, and watched the swallows below. They were flying barely an inch above the water as they hunted their late day meal. The brightly colored birds darted at high speed while their tiny bodies hugged the bank.

She smiled at their fierce maneuvers. _Daredevils._

Glancing at Michel, she wondered how much Pierre had told his family about her. Nonchalantly, she answered his query. "I use to help out at a neighbor's when I was a girl. One of the boys there would sometimes take me to the lake and we'd throw stones."

Jutting his long chin forward, he tossed a stone at a nearby tree. It hit its mark, and the sharp tap startled a resting bird that shot up from the branches.

"He taught you well. Did he have a name?" His voice had a laughing quality, and Jade smiled back.

"Of course. His name was Jean-Luc."

Ahead of them, the roof of Pierre's family home jutted above the trees. The sun was still high enough for at least another hour of walking but Michel was leading her back. On a typical day, he'd probably be working with Pierre in his orchards, but thanks to Pierre's recovery, today was a family holiday.

He followed the line of her gaze. "Grandmother wanted me to keep you out for a bit, until she and mother could get the supper done. Father brought in some game this afternoon, and she's making something special for dinner tonight."

He moved a little ahead of her, and she watched his broad, lean shoulders sway as he followed the sharp curve of the road. They walked through a copse of leafless trees with gray trunks doused in purple shadows. The sudden coolness touched the back of her neck and she shivered with pleasure.

Wood smoke fanning out from the house met them. Jade inhaled deeply, and held the fresh air in her lungs for a moment. Pierre was right; there was no comparison between the air here and the tainted version of Paris. Her nose and eyes hadn't felt this clear for weeks.

Opening the kitchen door, the delicious smell of roasting game wafted to their noses. Wood resins mixed with cooking fat cast a thin film of oily smoke through the room that enfolded the women and girls gathered at the wooden table. The overhead beams were nearly black from years of cooking.

Turning her head, Jade took in the warm peace of that large room. She would have liked to have sat with the women and listened to their conversation. Instead, she walked over to Claire to inquire about Pierre.

Claire was pulling freshly baked bread out of the oven, and laying golden loaves on a rack. Smiling warmly at her guest, she wiped her hands on her apron, and gestured in the direction of Pierre's room. "The last time I checked, he was awake. I'm sure he would enjoy visiting with you. We'll come for you when supper is ready."

Lightly knocking on Pierre's door, Jade waited for a moment and then slowly opened it.

He was seated upright in the bed with pillows tucked behind him, and gazing out the window. Turning slowly from the window, he smiled when he saw her.

She strolled to his bed, and pulled up a chair next to him. Immediately, he took her hand.

"So, you came," he said.

Covering his free hand with hers, she looked closely at him. His face was healthy again, with that familiar deep tan, and his eyes full of discerning kindness. She smiled, and moved a little closer to him.

"I understand that you saved my life."

Briefly shaking her head, she replied, "I don't think so. You probably would have recovered on your own."

"That's not what my mother says!" he retorted. "According to her, you are now my guardian angel." His eyes shone with pride, as he squeezed her hand.

She stared at him for a moment, and then looked down. _I'm no angel Pierre, _she thought ruefully as she remembered Meley's limp body in the stable. _If you only knew what I really am._

They chatted about the opera house and opening night festivities. Jade tried to describe the beauty of Verdi's music and how it had touched her. She longed to tell him about Erik and the green gown he'd made for her. Instead, she gave him a full account of the party at the great Parisian house where she'd met Verdi and his wife, and discovered the wonders of Rimbaud and Degas.

In the meantime, Pierre had been busy. He'd been searching for new stock for his orchard and possible land for Lucien and his family. He'd found the stock, but not the land.

"How is Lucien's vineyard?" she asked quietly.

He frowned and his eyes darkened. "The blight is spreading. Half of his vineyard is now affected." Pierre looked out the window, and bleakly stared at the landscape as if he were watching the devastation creep towards the house.

Jade had wanted to wait a day or so before telling him her news, but her immediate reaction to his gloom was to offer him hope.

"Pierre, I have spoken with someone who knows a great deal about such matters. He's given me a possible solution to the problem."

Pierre's eyes brightened, and he sat up a little straighter. "Please, tell me about it."

Just as she finished giving him the details of Erik's advice, Michel and an older man entered the room.

"Lucien!" cried Pierre as his face lit up. "Come and meet my friend, Mlle. Jade Bouta."

Pierre's brother stepped to the bed and extended his hand to Jade, who gave him hers. He brought her hand to his lips, and then formally bowed.

"I am honored to meet you, Mlle. Bouta."

"Thank you," replied Jade. She could see the family resemblance although he was considerably shorter than Pierre. A wiry man, his forearms were bands of muscle.

As the two men hoisted Pierre up, and hauled him to the dining room, he looked over his shoulder, and gave Jade a wry smile.

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A feast was laid out on the table with fresh game, meat pies and quiche au lard as well as the bread Claire had baked. Preserves, pastries, and savory vegetables crowded next to the main dishes as bottles of wine from the family's vineyard were passed around.

Pierre was pampered and fussed over by his family, and he took it in with his good-natured grace. Jade watched as they loaded his plate with food, made sure his wine glass was filled, and laughed at his jokes._ They are so good to each other, _she thought with delight.

Lucien and his wife Therese were at one side of the table with their four sons and daughters across from them— Michel, Gaston and the two girls Claire and Louise. Marie, who was Pierre's unmarried sister, sat next to Jade.

After the meal they moved to the drawing room, and sat by the fire. Therese sat next to Jade on the sofa. Her auburn hair was swept back with curls draped along her neck in a casual, country style.

"Mlle. Bouta, will you be staying with us for awhile?" Therese asked, as she smiled at the younger woman. Therese had been smiling at her throughout the evening, and had done her best to include Jade in all the conversations at the dinner table.

"Please, call me Jade," she replied. Then glancing at Pierre who was watching them, she said, " I had planned to spend several days."

Turning to Pierre, Therese noticed his distance from the fire, and she immediately rose, and covered his legs with a knitted blanket. In the next moment, Marie entered the room with a tray of hot drinks.

After everyone was served, Therese asked Marie in her clipped voice, "Marie, are you still planning on going to the village tomorrow for your fitting?"

With a sunny smile Marie replied, "Yes. Have you changed your mind, and decided to come with me?"

Nodding, Therese turned to Jade, and fixed her intense eyes upon her. "Marie is having a new gown made for the Christmas season. Would you like to join us tomorrow? We'll be leaving in the afternoon. Afterwards, we can sit in the village, and you can tell us about the Parisian fashions that are popular at the opera house."

"Oh yes, please join us Jade!" Marie chimed in.

Jade looked at Pierre and then to Michel, hoping one of them would rescue her. Pierre gave her a gentle smile and Michel simply shrugged his shoulder as if to say, "I can't help you with this one."

Reluctantly nodding 'yes', she added, "I know very little about fashion, but I'll be happy to accompany the two of you."

As the men discussed Pierre's recent search for land, he looked past his brother and stared at Jade for a moment. She replied with a brief shake of her head that indicated 'no'. It wasn't the right time for her to talk with Lucien about the blight.

Watching their silent exchange, Therese caught Jade's eye and asked, "Jade, have you ever spent time in wine country before?"

_So, Pierre didn't tell them about my past, _Jade thought with relief.

"Yes," she replied noncommittally. "The wine that you served tonight from your vineyard is very good."

Overhearing her comment, Lucien lifted his chin with pride, and smiled slightly at Jade. His serious looking face was a strong contrast to Pierre's easygoing demeanor.

The men continued to talk about the local wine growers and what they were doing to save the vines. It was a litany that Jade had heard before. If it weren't for Erik's advice, she would have found the discussion depressing. Pierre would occasionally glance at her and she could tell that he was anxious that she relay her news.

A half hour later Pierre began to slump in his chair as he struggled to stay awake. Claire ordered him to his room and the two men helped him down the corridor. Then she turned to Jade whose eyes were also drooping.

The soft, large bed had been turned down, and the fire lit. Jade stripped to her chemise, and put on the thick robe that had been laid out for her. She cracked the window to let in fresh air. Having a window was a delightful change from her stuffy room in the opera house. Pierre's mother had given her a luxuriously large bedroom on the first floor that was down the hall from Pierre.

Sitting in the leather, overstuffed chair by the fire, she stared into the flames. It had been a short but very enjoyable day. Michel had shown her the neighboring countryside, and they'd spent hours walking. She felt deliciously tired after traipsing up and down the road with him. He wasn't a talker like Jean, but they seemed to have a natural affinity, and she had felt very comfortable with him.

_He's like Pierre,_ she mused. _It's easy to see his goodness. _

She looked around at the fire-lit room and out the window. This was a wonderful place! It possessed the best aspects of her parents' home. The homesickness she'd felt since coming to Paris had finally disappeared. She could see Gillian roaming the fields in her red cape and harvesting brightly colored insects. The child would be enchanted by the tiny swallows that hunted by the stream.

Crawling into bed, she immediately fell asleep.

0000

Jade's eyes opened. It was cold in the room.

Turning her head to the window, she noticed that it was wide open. _Odd, _she thought sleepily. Looking towards the fireplace, she saw the tall man sitting in the chair.

It was a dream. But still, it was very cold.

"Erik," she whispered and he rose and glided to her side.

"What are you doing here?" she asked dreamily. She knew she was still sleeping but she also felt that he was there. He had never been this real before in her dreams.

Erik reached over and lifted her into his arms. She looked down and saw that her cloak was around her shoulders. Shutting her eyes, she tried to ignore that she had left her bed. She was so tired and needed to sleep.

Once they were outside, he carried her to the horse that was tied nearby.

By then, Jade was beginning to realize that this wasn't a dream and that she was being spirited away. Held in his arms, she felt sluggish and drained, as if she were moving through a wall of fabric. Her head lolled onto his chest and she could smell his slightly musky odor mixed with the odors of bath soap, and candle smoke. He was moving smoothly over the even ground and she felt strangely protected as he carried her.

When he swung her up onto the saddle she fully awoke. His hand was next to hers as he gripped the leather and prepared to hoist himself up.

The stars' cold light barely illuminated his face. The unfeeling, white mask confused her for a moment as she tried to look into his eyes. Up to that point, her vocal cords had been absent. When she felt the saddle shift as he leaned onto the horse, her voice returned.

"What are you doing?" she asked hoarsely.

The saddle slid to her left as it took his weight and he was behind her. Immediately the black horse moved forward, and they trotted out of the yard.

Erik's arms were wrapped around her while he held the reins. Her back bumped against the front of his body as the horse loped down the road, and she could feel his tight, well-muscled chest. It was colder than last night. Soon she began to shiver, partly from the chill but also from the excitement.

_Where are we going? _Surely he wasn't taking her back to the opera house in her chemise and robe. Or had he finally gone completely mad?

A few minutes later, they left the road, and followed a narrow path to a hayfield. Great, round bales surrounded them. They went a little further into the field and then Erik pulled the horse up and slid off. He led the animal to one of the huge silhouettes, and lifted her out of the saddle.

Carrying her to a spot that was heaped with dry hay, he gently set her down, and sat beside her.

By now, Jade was shivering hard enough that her teeth were chattering. Pulling her close to him, he covered her with his cloak.

They sat together under the cloak, and she soon felt warmer. As she followed the rise and fall of Erik's chest she relaxed, and stopped waiting for him to speak. They weren't riding towards Paris, and he was behaving like a gentleman, so there was no need to talk.

Around them were the many sounds of the night: the light breeze playing in the field, the rustling of rodents and the occasional flapping of a bird overhead. The land was busy with nighttime hunting, and beyond that was the deep stillness of the country.

An overwhelming need for sleep returned, and she slumped forward. Then Erik's arm slipped around her and lightly held her next to him. As she began to drift off, she entwined her fingers around the buttons of his waistcoat and rested on his chest. Like a sleepy child, she wanted to get closer to that wonderful source of warmth.

Giving up her struggle to stay awake, she finally fell asleep.

When she awoke, she was in his arms again and back on the horse. He was holding her gently on the saddle and leaning her against his chest as they rode back to the house.

After he lifted her into her bedroom, she walked straight to the bed and crawled in. There was the sound of his light footsteps coming to the side of the bed, and then the give of the mattress as he sat beside her. She reached out to him, and touched his waistcoat. Her fingers slowly skimmed along the smooth fabric until her heavy hand fell to the bed.

His breath was on her ear, and he whispered to her. "Jade, when you are finished here, come back to my opera house."

Sighing, she snuggled deeper under the covers and fell asleep.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The black stallion moved fast along the road to Paris. Erik watched the darkness ahead and allowed the horse to set the pace.

He could still feel her warmth against his body, and her curled up form on his chest and stomach. The smell of her hair was in his nostrils. He had slipped her hood off as they rode back to the house so that it would brush against his chin.

At first he had planned to take her from her room, and bring her to the hay field where he could talk to her. Once there, he would convince her that there was far more for her in his opera house than she could ever experience here. If reasoning was not enough, he would recite poetry, or sing to her to lure her back.

However, once he held her in his arms, sensation had taken over. Words had disappeared and there was only touch to guide him.

Erik's lips curved into a satisfied smile. She had slept in his arms. Her cool independence and strength had melted away and instead, she had become an incredibly warm and soft woman resting upon him.

A long, hard breath escaped him. Waiting for their inevitable intimacy was becoming difficult.

Earlier that day, after considering what to do, he knew that it came down to two choices. He must either trust that she would come back of her own free will, or he must destroy his rival.

He found the latter choice distasteful. The insanity that had ruled him over a year ago when he had set fire to the opera house was finally gone, and his time as a hired assassin for the Shah was best forgotten. He no longer had the stomach for cold-blooded murder.

Tonight, she had trusted him completely.

Closing his eyes, he relived the peace that had filled him last night as he stood by the window and watched her tend to the sick man. He was now certain that if he needed her, she would come.

_I have her affection and her trust. Soon I will have her love_.

A light wind hit his face, and pulled at his cloak. Erik looked up at the stars and the magnificent reach of the night's soft light. It was a night for lovers and new life.

Caressing the horse's neck, he nudged his sides with his heels and the stallion responded with more speed.

_The next time we meet, I will bring her to my home. _He sat back in the saddle and imagined the look in her eyes as he ushered her into his candle lit sanctuary.


	32. Chapter 32 Madeleine

**Chapter 32 Madeleine**

Jade sat on her heels with her head resting on her knees and listened to the slow beat of her heart. Surrounding her was a rusty powder of crushed leaves that she had danced upon minutes ago. Languidly, she gazed at the flecks of color intermingled with the earth.

Suddenly, an impish puff of wind swirled across the ground and threw the powder into her eyes.

Blinking, she stood up and shook the dust from her hair, and then roughly brushed off the splatter of earth and leaf fragments from her skirt. The bushes snagged her clothes and she tugged them free as she stepped out of the woods.

She looked up at the morning sun, which was now over the horizon, and thought of the people who would be up and gathering for breakfast.

The woods had been black when she had entered them an hour ago, shortly after awakening. A new melody was in her head, which had triggered a surge of sensations. She had awoken with her body humming and her breasts warm with sweat. And after lying in bed for a few minutes, the feelings intensified. The thought of sitting at the breakfast table with her hot skin and throbbing pulse while trying to make light conversation with Pierre's mother was intolerable. So she had hustled to the patch of woods before she could be seen. If she didn't dance out that internal storm she would have to spend the day avoiding people.

Birds flitted across her path, as they greedily stuffed themselves with insects. Their quick movements were interesting, so she sat on a rock, and watched them alight on the bushes around her. Shutting her eyes, Jade listened to their bright and varied calls. After a few minutes, her mind turned to last night.

Erik had come to her, and pulled her away from the peace of her bed. Then he had taken her to a field, and held her close while he protected her from the cold.

Hours from Paris, and Erik had still found her! Appearing out of nowhere, he had once again put himself into the middle of her life.

She should have been unnerved by his behavior, but instead, it had felt like another adventure. The night ride with him behind her, the quiet countryside, the soft sound of his breath coupled with the gentle rise and fall of his chest, she remembered every moment. He had held her gently and she had fallen asleep beside him.

Jade shook her head at Erik's tactics. He knew her too well.

If he had reached for her under her blankets, she would have resisted. So instead, he had snuck up upon her in her dreams, and used secret longings to catch her. His insistent presence as he firmly held her close to him had roused her need for closeness.

Lying next to him in silence, she had felt an intimacy, which had returned her to her childhood, and the need for her mother's touch.

How could he have known that she still needed that?

She opened her eyes and watched a sparrow hop along the path as it searched for a juicy tidbit in the ground.

Sometimes she couldn't remember her dreams, but last night's were still huddled around her: intense fragments of longing and touching. And Erik had been in them all, nearly as real as he had been when he carried her to the field.

Jade shivered and goose bumps covered her as she remembered him.

She glanced back to the woods and wondered where he was at that moment. _He could be anywhere, _she mulled.

Rising from her seat, she shook off her dreams, and looked towards the stone house. Chimney smoke was heavy in the air. With a growling stomach she made her way to breakfast.

0000

Jade ate ravenously. Pierre's mother was an excellent cook, and the fresh country food was delicious. Her hunger had seemed to grow exponentially since yesterday.

Claire watched her, and smiled with satisfaction. Picking up a large, blue ceramic bowl filled with fresh, steaming mushrooms she handed them across the table to Therese. "My dear, see that Jade gets some of these." Then she said, "Jade, I don't think you'll easily find these in the markets of Paris. Pierre saves the best of his patch for our family."

Smiling back at the silvery haired woman, Jade nearly sighed with contentment. For once in her life, she was enjoying the attention. Pierre was seated across the table from her and smiling his warm smile. The rest of the family was treating her as a favored guest. Her normal reserve had begun to melt away as she felt welcomed into their home.

Today, Pierre would return to his house and his orchards. And she would walk the fields until her trip to the village with Therese and Marie. But first, there were letters to write.

0000

Shortly after the noon hour, Marie handled the reins of the small carriage that bumped over the dusty road. The autumn sun warmed their faces as the horse pulled them along at a leisurely trot.

Arriving in the village, the three women immediately went to the dressmaker's shop where Marie's gown was being made. After they entered, Jade stood back, and watched her companions with disinterest as they talked with the shopkeeper. Few things bored her more than discussing the details of women's fashion. This afternoon would probably be the most tedious aspect of her holiday. But she had been invited along, and had no choice but to follow.

_Then there will be the chat that will come later at the café, where I'm to 'share' with them my knowledge about Parisian fashion. _The thought of describing in detail the silly styles of Parisian dress made her inwardly grimace, and almost wish that she were back in the opera house working in the stables or visiting with Erik.

_Erik. _

Jade stared at a bolt of cloth, and thought about the letter she had left for him in her room on Sunday night. Had he even seen it? He must have followed them immediately after they had left the opera house. He probably hadn't had time to go to her room and read her explanation about why she needed to go.

It must have bothered him that she had suddenly left without at least telling him why.

She thought of his only words to her last night: '_When you are finished here, come back to my opera house.'_

Why did he think she wouldn't come back? The Opera Populaire was her home now. And nearly everybody that she loved was there. Except for Pierre.

Then it hit her. _He may have meant, come back to him! Is Erik jealous of Pierre?_

She stopped staring at the swath of rose petal fabric, and nearly dropped the letters she was holding. Suddenly, the stuffy room felt hot, and she needed fresh air.

Taking her leave from her companions, Jade stepped outside, and blankly faced the street while she examined the sudden revelation. She retraced her visits with Erik in the last month, and searched for clues of a deeper affection. Last night had been different from the rest.

The moonless field and horseback ride came rushing back to her. _What was he trying to do? Seduce me?_

It was a strange way to seduce someone: taking her out in the middle of the night until she was nearly freezing and then keeping her in a hay field under his cloak. More than likely he was playing another game or again trying to manipulate her for some unknown purpose.

_No, _she thought. _It's the beautiful diva he loves, the one with the angelic voice._

Inside of her a nagging voice whispered, _the diva is gone and now it's you who are there._

She shook her head 'no', and walked up the street a short ways. Then she turned and walked back. Pacing the street, Jade tried to puzzle out his behavior. The whole thing was too complicated and confusing, and so very like Erik.

_Why can't things be simpler with him?_ she thought with pointed frustration.

And to make matters worse, now she had these intense dreams about his hands moving over her.

Jade glanced at a passing matronly woman who had several packages in her arms. Her calm face spoke plainly of day-to-day existence and a normal, unexciting life. Stopping in front of a shop window, she looked at her own unremarkable countenance that dully shone back at her.

So what if he stared at my lips and breasts for a few seconds on opening night! she thought with a sudden irritation. That doesn't mean he's in love with me. Don't be a fool! I couldn't outshine his opera singer even if I tried. At best, I'm a passing diversion.

She took several deep breaths to calm herself, and then lifting her chin, she headed for the store that handled the mail.

The dimly lit shop had only one customer besides her, and she quietly waited her turn. Looking over her letters, she estimated that they would precede her return to Paris by at least a day. The letter to DuChant said that she'd be at work on Friday. The one to Jean and Manette explained her absence and Pierre's recovery. And the last to the Verdis begged an apology for missing their dinner.

The door opened behind her, and in stepped a woman.

"Good day Mme. Mourat," said the woman behind the counter. "I'll be with you in a moment."

The tall woman acknowledged Jade with a smile, and glided past her.

Mme. Mourat appeared to be one of the local aristocrats. The cloth of her gown was expensive, and her posture impeccable. She held her head high with dignity and grace, but not too high to be judged as being haughty. Her silk skirts rustled softly as she slowly moved about the room.

But her most striking feature was her beauty.

Jade wasn't normally swayed by physical attributes of beauty or ugliness. But the woman before her was absolutely stunning. Her black hair and porcelain skin matched her flawless features. She was as perfect as a goddess of legends past.

When the shopkeeper was finished with her customer, she ignored Jade, and turned to the other woman. "What can I do for you today, Madame?" she asked.

Mme. Mourat nodded to the woman, and then turning to Jade said, "I believe you were here before me." Then she gave the shopkeeper a meaningful look.

A little cowed, the woman turned to Jade and brusquely asked, "What do you need today, Mademoiselle?"

0000

Moments later, Jade joined her companions, and they walked to the local café.

Therese chose an outside table at the café for the three women. The small patio behind the decorative fence had two tables that were flooded by the bright sunlight. It was a relatively warm day for November, and the countrywomen sat down with pleasant anticipation. It was a lark to sit in the village at midday and while away an hour with gossip and conversation. They ordered a light lunch, and proceeded to pester Jade about news of Paris.

It was clear to her that neither Marie or Therese were interested in horses, opera, or architecture. But they did enjoy hearing about the costumes worn by the cast, and a description of the theater part of the opera house. They asked her questions about the local shops, and were bored when she described the bookstore that she loved. She was relieved when the two women fell into a discussion about local relationships and recent births, so that she could have some time to herself.

Jade watched as a closed carriage that was lavishly outfitted approached them from the other side of the village. It stopped outside the shop where Jade had mailed her letters. A moment later, Mme. Mourat exited the shop and stepped into the carriage.

Therese glanced up and upon seeing the woman, quickly turned to Marie. "Look Marie! There's Madeleine."

The two countrywomen's eyes followed the carriage as it briskly traveled back in the direction it came from.

Looking pointedly at Marie, Therese asked, "Will you be contacting her to tell her about Pierre's illness?"

Marie glanced at Jade and then quietly answered, "Yes. I will send her a letter in the next day or so." Then she quickly changed the subject to the upcoming holiday gatherings that would be held at nearby homes next month.

The mention of Mme. Mourat and Pierre in the same breath aroused Jade's interest, and she waited for Therese to steer the conversation back to that subject. But with the exception of one brief, intense look that Therese gave Jade, the matter appeared to be finished.

On the carriage ride back, little was said. Therese seemed very interested in the empty, brown fields of the countryside and Marie focused on handling the horse. Giant clouds had gathered in the sky but there was still no indication of rain. Jade wondered if she'd be lucky enough to have dry and clear weather for the remainder of her visit so she could continue to walk the fields and roads. These last two days of exercise in the fresh air had felt wonderful. The only thing missing was a horse to ride.

On arriving at the house, the women carried their packages to their rooms. Marie would be leaving for Pierre's in about an hour and Jade was to accompany her. In the meantime, Jade sat near the fireplace and read one of the few books that she had found, the family bible.

Inside its heavy cover was a limited chart of the family's genealogy. Following the trail of begetting, she noted the names of Pierre's near ancestors. When she arrived at the place on the page that listed the family's sons and daughters, she saw Lucien and Therese's names neatly penned in with their children's. Marie's stood alone, and waited for her future husband's name. Next to Pierre's was a smudged mark, as if there had been an entry that someone had tried to erase.

Looking at it closely, she could still make out the letter M, which was blurred but recognizable.

As she studied the remnants of the name, quick steps rang in the hall and a moment later, Therese walked into the room. Jade shut the book.

Smiling at her, Therese spoke. "Jade, would you please come with me? There's something I'd like to talk with you about."

Jade followed Therese's slender figure up the staircase to a spacious bedroom. A large, carved, wooden bed was a few feet from the window, and was covered with warm sunlight that poured through the panes. Jade turned at the sound of the door being quietly shut behind them.

Placing two chairs close to each other for a tête-à-tête, Therese gestured for Jade to sit. Her face was calm except for her eyes, which had a sharp glint.

"Jade, did you notice the genealogy page in the front of our family's bible?"

Nodding 'yes', Jade watched the woman closely. Her sudden secrecy suggested intrigue.

"The name that was erased was Madeleine's, the woman that we saw in the village today." She held Jade's gaze for a moment and then continued.

"Pierre entered her name next to his when he was a boy. They were childhood sweethearts and spent a great deal of time together." She smiled slightly, and then added, "He and his family assumed that they would someday marry."

Therese paused and looked expectantly at Jade.

"What happened?" Jade asked quietly.

Sighing, Therese stared out the window for a few seconds before speaking.

"Madeleine's father became very ill when she was seventeen and Pierre was nineteen. The family's savings soon dwindled and her father was unable to work. Pierre would have married her but he only had a small income, which was not enough to support her and her family."

Therese looked past Jade at a patch of sunlight that illuminated the faded designs of the wallpaper. Then she looked back at Jade. He eyes shone with intensity.

"Madeleine was then, as she is now, the most beautiful woman in these parts. I dare say she could rival any woman in Paris."

"There was a rich man, a Monsieur Mourat, who lived some miles away from our village and had taken an interest in Madeleine several years before. When he heard of the family's poverty, he approached her parents and offered to marry her. In return, he would support the family and send the father to a hospital in Paris where he would receive excellent care."

"The story was that her father refused the man's offer. Monsieur Mourat was considerably older than his daughter and Madeleine's father had always doted upon her. They were very close. I believe he too had expected that she would some day marry Pierre who she was very much in love with."

"However, in the end, Madeleine did agree to marry the man. She adored her father and wanted him to have the best possible treatment in Paris."

Therese smiled sadly. "Pierre was heartbroken, and he never recovered from the loss."

The two women sat in silence for few moments and then Therese spoke again with a soothing voice. "I'm very glad he met you, my dear." She turned away from Jade and spoke almost as an afterthought. "Once Pierre loves, it is forever."

0000

An hour later, Marie and Jade rode in the carriage to Pierre's house, which was two miles away.

The clouds gathered around the sun and Jade followed their unhurried drift. She was thinking about Pierre and Madeleine and their sad history. Now she had something else in common with her dear friend: a childhood romance that had never come to fruition. How long had his heart ached for his lost love?

Marie hadn't said a thing since they'd left the house. Suddenly, her clear voice interrupted Jade's meditation.

"Did Therese tell you about Pierre and Madeleine?"

Jade turned to her, and hid her surprise as she nodded 'yes'. _Everyone seems to have Madeleine on their minds today, _she thought.

The brown haired woman hesitated, and after brushing a strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand, she finally spoke.

"You know Jade, Therese was interested in my brother Pierre before she became involved with my brother Lucien. But he didn't return her affection and she married Lucien instead."

The carriage hit a bump and both women held on to the seat until the carriage settled.

Marie continued. "I love Therese like a sister. She is a good woman. But, I think she is a little jealous of you. If I were you, I'd take any advice she might give about dealing with Pierre with a grain of salt."

"What sort of advice?" Jade asked slowly. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

Snapping the reins, Marie sped up the plodding horse, and waited a moment before answering. "Any advice she might give in regards to Pierre still being in love with Madeleine."

The clouds covered the sun and the warmth disappeared.

Jade looked at the landscape and considered Marie's words. She felt like a chess piece that had been maneuvered once too often across the board.

Marie waited, and then continued. "Pierre has never married, and frankly, our family had given up hope years ago that he would. He seemed content to stay a bachelor. However, since he started his extra trip to Paris each week, he has repeatedly talked about you. Before we met you the other day, we felt that we already knew you."

_No, _Jade thought. _You do not._

Jade stared into the soft brown eyes a moment longer, and then looked back to the clouds.

0000

Pierre's house was smaller than the family home, with only three bedrooms. The kitchen was good sized, with a large window looking over the garden and orchards. Inside it were an abundance of utensils, plates, pots and pans. It looked well used, and appeared to be the heart of his home, just as it would be if Pierre had a wife.

Marie and Jade immediately set about preparing supper.

By the time the three men arrived, the kitchen was warm and full of the good smells of their cooking.

Pierre and his nephews sat at the table as Marie passed the large plates of food from the stove. The men loaded their plates and enthusiastically complimented the cooks while they ate heartily.

As they ate, Jade studied Pierre, and was happy to see that he looked as fit as ever. All the men had the good looks of their family, and their healthy tans enhanced their appeal. The thought of Erik's pale face and hands flashed before her, and she briefly wondered if he ever longed to be out in the sun with the rest of humanity.

Michel opened the conversation by asking about the women's trip to the village.

After glancing at Jade, Marie described her new gown and their pleasant lunch. She neglected to mention seeing Madeleine.

When dinner was finished, they sat around the fireplace, and talked about the orchards and the upcoming winter. Pierre had seen indications that it would probably be a harsh one.

While the men talked about their day's work, Jade's mind wandered to the opera house and the cold quarters of the children's dormitory. Manette had brought in extra blankets for the children and Jade hoped that it would be enough for them. She wondered if it might be possible to bring Gillian to her room during the winter. Of course, that would mean she wouldn't be able to see Erik there at night. But perhaps she could arrange to meet him somewhere else.

The thought of him not being able to visit her as she sat in her bed caused a momentarily empty feeling in her breast. She had come to enjoy the way he slipped into her room and stayed there until she was ready to sleep. It was a comforting ritual.

Looking up, she saw that Pierre was watching her with an unusually intense gaze. A second later, he smiled warmly and then looked away.

When it was time to go, Marie, Jade, and Michel took the carriage back to the family home. Without another woman staying in the house, it would be improper for Jade to spend the night there. Michel had offered to ride back with them.

Once back at the house, Jade immediately went to her room. It had been a long day and she was feeling quite tired.

Before going to bed, she cracked the window to let in fresh air and allow Erik to enter if he wished. It was colder tonight than it had been the night before. If he came, she would insist that they visit in her room. If they spoke quietly, no one in the house need know that he was there. Looking about the room, she spied a chair that would suit her purpose. Sliding it to the door, she propped it under the handle so as to prevent any intrusions.

Lying in the soft bed with the blankets pulled to her chin, she watched the shadows waver on the ceiling. In the house below, there was the occasional faint sound of a raised male voice. _They're probably discussing the vineyard again,_ she thought. She had promised Pierre that she would discuss Erik's solutions with Lucien tomorrow after supper.

Pierre had looked happy tonight as they sat around the fire after supper. She considered for a moment his intense gaze that she had interrupted. Then she remembered Therese's words: '_Once Pierre loves, it is forever'._

_He deserves all the happiness that life can give. He is a good man with a true heart, _she pondered.

Turning towards the window, she stared at the dark sky and knew that the time had come for her to speak with him.


	33. Chapter 33 Revelations

**Chapter 33 Revelations**

Pierre held the reins loosely in his hands as the horse steadily hauled the load towards the city. The creaking of the wagon and squeaking of the aged leather harness punctuated the night's silence. Huddled beside him was Jade who was sleeping soundly. It was three o'clock in the morning and they were heading to market.

He pulled his scarf tighter around his throat, and ignored the cold wind that had started to blow. After today, he'd be making the trip to market only every other week. That meant seeing Jade less often, unless he could persuade her to leave the opera house.

As he stared at the cloaked figure beside him, the violet scarf that wrapped her throat sprung out from the darkness. It was a rich emblem of his mother's regard. Its tasseled ends fell over her shoulders and clung to the cloak. He could still see his nephew presenting it to her. Michel had held it over her head, and reverently placed the thick woolen around Jade's shoulders. Her small hands had pressed, and smoothed it against the front of her body as she looked up at him with delight. Seizing his chance, Michel took a step closer, and stole a final moment with her. His coat lay open, and a fitful breeze brushed his chest, but it hadn't mattered. It could just as easily have been a warm summer day as he leaned towards her.

Pierre chuckled as he remembered the expression on his face. _Moonstruck._ _Well lad, you can't have her. She's already spoken for._

Humming a tune, he shook off the cold. Life felt good and complete with the woman at his side. He listened to her soft even breathing that was uninterrupted by dreams, and smiled. Yesterday's conversation with Marie was nearly forgotten.

His sister had come to him in the orchard. Leaning on the fence, Marie had told him about Therèse's tête-à-tête with Jade. He held his temper, and listened, as he tried to understand her need to betray him. It was bad enough that his customers at the market were relentlessly pursuing him for marriage material for their daughters and nieces, but to have his sister-in-law trying to manipulate him as well? God only knew what that woman had said to Jade about him and Madeleine.

_Something about lingering, unrequited love, _he growled to himself.

A sigh, and a stirring signaled Jade's awakening. Pushing against him for a moment, she sat up.

"How far are we from Paris?" She asked sleepily, and yawned hard with her shoulders hunched to her ears.

"We're about halfway to the market place. In a little while we'll be arriving at the outlying villages," he answered mildly.

The cart's wheel hit a rut and the wagon tilted, slamming Jade against Pierre. He automatically reached out and steadied her.

"Thank you," she said sleepily as she leisurely pulled away. She tilted her head up, and scanned the sky.

Pierre looked up as well, and remarked, "It's a beautiful night. If you're hungry, my mother packed a basket for us. It's directly behind you under a blanket. Feel free to use the blanket as well if you're cold."

Turning around, she pulled the woven basket from the wagon bed, and fished through its contents. She took out bread and cheese, tore off hunks, and passed it to her friend. They ate without conversation, as they looked at the stars.

Between bites, Pierre hummed a song. When they'd finished their breakfast, he turned to her.

"Did you enjoy your visit to the country?" he asked kindly with twinkling eyes. Jade swallowed her last mouthful, and smiled.

"Yes, very much. Your family was very kind to me." She unwrapped the folds of violet bunched around her throat, and tightly rewound the soft scarf about her hood. Twisting its tassels between her fingers, she leaned forward, and brushed the crumbs from her cloak. The hood partially slipped back, and revealed thick hair that shined in the moonlight.

Pierre admired her pleasing profile. He softly asked, "Do you think you would enjoy living there?"

Glancing up at him, Jade straightened, and then looked solemnly into his eyes. Her hand slipped over his.

"Pierre, you are my dearest friend, and I would do anything to make you happy," she said with a quiet voice. Her eyes briefly wavered, and then returned to his with a resolute gaze.

"Do you remember the man I told you about that night that I was in your room? The one who left the letter for DuChant about my not returning to work too soon?" she asked gently.

Pierre blinked. "The man who watched over you when you were ill? Yes, I remember." His stomach had a sudden sinking feeling.

"We have become good friends. And recently, I've come to realize that I have other feelings for him as well." She paused, and studied his face with concern.

Ignoring the sadness that squeezed his heart, he set down the reins, and took her hands in his. "Jade, does he love you?" he asked with a grim expression.

"No Pierre. He does not," she stated flatly.

"Then why?" he abruptly shot back. Stiffening from agitation, he tightened his grip. "Jade, there are men who come to the opera house not for music, but to steal women's hearts. They take their pleasure and leave. Jacque DuChant told me that it's a frequent occurrence."

Disentangling her hand she reached up, and gently stroked his brow. "I know Pierre. I know. It's fine. Really, it is," she said with a soothing tone. She continued to stroke his hair as she'd done when he was ill. After a minute he became calmer.

Holding his hands, she continued. "My dear friend, I'm not a foolish girl. I know he doesn't love me. But he's not heartless. You see…"

Jade stopped, and looked steadily into his eyes. If anyone could understand this, it would be her friend.

"He's still in love with another, a woman who brought beauty to him, and then left him behind. He is lonely, Pierre. He can't help it if she still has his heart."

A startled look crossed Pierre's face, and his eyes sharply fixed on hers.

"Jade, I will always love Madeleine. But she is my past. It is you who I love now."

Reaching up, her fingers barely touched the side of his face in a slow caress.

"I know," she breathed softly, and looked at him with tender sadness. "You are a good man Pierre, with a true heart. You deserve a wife whose heart belongs only to you."

Their eyes locked for a long moment. And then it was finished. Jade turned away and Pierre grasped the reins.

After a minute, he quietly asked, "What will you do?"

She looked at the road ahead and the practical, countrywoman inside of her answered. "I'm drawn to him but it's not love. I'll watch my feelings, and maybe as time passes, they will lessen."

Watching her intently, Pierre saw her confidence falter as a haunted look entered her eyes.

" I won't love someone who can't love me," she said distantly.

For the rest of the trip they rode in silence.

Eventually, the lights of the Parisian suburbs appeared in the distance, as a prelude to the spectacular display that was to follow. They arrived before the dawn, just as the city was awakening, and returning to life. Pierre's market stall awaited him, and Jade would return to her work at the opera house.

As they said good-bye, she looked into his warm eyes, and knew that they were still good friends. That had not changed. But when Jade left the marketplace, her heart was heavier than it had been when she had rushed out of Paris to save him.

0000

Madame Truffaut moved briskly around the office, and occasionally dumped a pile of letters on Jade's desk. Now that her most competent assistant was back, she was loading her down with heaps of correspondence, as if the sheer weight of the paper mound would pin her to the chair and prevent future escapades to the country. DuChant had spoken to her about hiring a replacement, and relocating Jade to another less essential part of the opera house where her frequent absences would be less noticed. However, the steely Madame had held firm. She needed her, especially now when they were starting a new opera. She would not tolerate the disruption a new assistant would bring.

With her nose buried in paperwork, Jade forgot the look of pain on Pierre's face as she swam in the lake of details that Madame poured down on her. It was a relief to work hard. By lunch, she had demolished a quarter of the pile, and was ready to take on the rest.

Madame Truffaut stood rigidly in front of the desk, and scowled down at her. "Go to lunch now!" she said acerbically. "If you faint from hunger, you'll be no good to me."

Obeying her tyrannical custodian, Jade put on her cloak, and walked to the Opéra Café.

When she opened the door, the familiar noontime roar hit her. Moving in the direction of the children's table, she searched for Manette and the little ballerinas. The place was crammed with adults without a diminutive head in sight. She had arrived too late, and missed them.

Ordering a lunch to take with her, she returned to the management offices, and ate as she worked. She had promised to work the entire weekend to make up for her holiday with Pierre's family. And if she worked extra hours over the next couple of weeks, she'd receive a full wage for her time away. DuChant had offered to give her the difference without the extra work, but she'd refused. If she were treated as special it could sour things between her and the rest of the staff.

When they were finished for the day, she straightened her desk, and hurried out the office. She was eager to see the child, and had missed her very much. Jade hoped that she'd be able to speak with Manette tonight about arranging for Gillian to be with her on the cold winter nights. She had a plan on how to care for her, and was fairly certain that Manette would agree to it.

_All that remains is to speak with Erik about our visits in my room. If he will agree to meet with me in another place_ _then the entire matter will be settled, _she thought hopefully.

Jade arrived at the classroom where the children were still practicing. Inside the large room, Manette and her students crowded around the tall window that emanated the sunset's rosy light. Gillian's thatch of white hair should have been bobbing amid the flock of tiny dancers, but she was truant.

Manette was on one knee as she retied the laces of one of her students when she glanced up and saw her friend standing in the door. Handing the children over to her assistant, Jade overheard her say to the young woman, "Take them to dinner. I will join you later." Then Manette walked smoothly towards Jade. Her normally bright smile was absent. Instead, there was a somber expression.

"Jade, I am glad to see that you are well and did not catch the fever from Pierre!"

Smiling, Jade took her outstretched hand and squeezed it. "Pierre's fever was only from a bad cut. There was no danger to me."

Before she could say anything else, Manette took her by the arm, and steered her to an empty room down the hall. Shutting the door behind them, she motioned Jade to a chair. Jade's eyes followed Manette as she carried another chair over to hers, and carefully set it down while she avoided looking at Jade.

_Something is wrong._

Manette's sad eyes rested on her, and a chill ran up her spine. She braced herself for the bad news.

"I did not know if you were affected by the fever, so I was waiting to hear from you before I told you," Manette explained. She reached over, and took her friend's hands. "My dear Jade, Gillian has left Paris."

A sickening sense of alarm ran through Jade. Catching her breath, she stared unblinkingly at the woman.

Manette's brow knitted as she saw her friend's distress.

"A man who is a cousin of hers came here on Monday, and wanted to see Gillian. After he spent an hour with her, he spoke with M. DuChant, and requested that the child be released into his care. He had a letter from her aunt stating that the family agreed that he could take her. They left on the same day."

"Where did they go?" Jade whispered. Her tan had vanished and there was a sickly color in its place.

"I don't know, somewhere in France. DuChant told me that he was a former sailor who has been settled for several years now. He told DuChant that he was hoping to be married soon."

Jade stared blankly at Manette.

"He seemed very taken with the child. I think he was only curious about her until he met her. He told DuChant that he had come to Paris on business," she added lamely. Shifting in her chair, Manette gave Jade a helpless look.

"Business…" Jade replied faintly. Her eyes moved slowly across the small, windowless room. _It's quite a useless room, _she thought dully. _Not big enough for lessons, or for dressing. What was the architect thinking when he put it here?_

Suddenly, Jade stood up.

"Thank you for telling me the news, Manette," she said in a flat voice, without looking at her friend. "I must go now." The pasty color of her cheeks was changing to a rough red as if the shock of the news had scraped her skin bare. Turning on her heel, she hurriedly left the room.

Manette registered the rapid swish of Jade's skirt produced by her stiff and graceless exit. Sighing deeply, she silently prayed that the angels would watch over her friend, and heal her sorrow.

0000

A little later, Jade was in the stable, and brushing the black stallion's back. She reached down, and checked each hoof for stones. Then throwing a light saddle onto his back, she led the large horse out the stable doors as Rascon looked on. She had barely nodded to him when she rushed in a few minutes before, and he was watching her closely.

Hoisting her skirt up, and partially tucking it around her waist, she climbed onto the horse. Then she arranged her skirts so that they hung over the animal's back and sides. The broad coverlet of muted fabric formed an elegant drape, which gave her the air of a lady preparing for sport on her chosen steed. Sitting up straight, she held the reins firmly, and guided the dancing, high stepping horse to the path as he impatiently fought the restraint. She tightened her grip when he reared and pawed the air with excitement.

Jade teased his impatience until he was quivering with anticipation. When they cleared the buildings, she gave him his head, and swiftly dug her heels into his sides. Grabbing the bit, the stallion lunged forward with nostrils flaring, and tore down the path.

Twelve hundred pounds of horseflesh raced across the beaten ground, and kicked back a spray of earth. The sun had set and evening shadows crisscrossed their path, surrounding the scraps of remaining light. The black stallion sliced through the gray landscape as he reveled in his freedom. His strong muscles worked furiously in hard motions, like the pistons of an engine. Jade leaned further over his neck, and buried her face in his mane. Pressing him with her heels, she cried, "faster," and urged him on with her body.

Flicking his ears back to her voice, the stallion stretched out his neck and flew.

It was miles later when he finally had his fill, and slowed to a trot. As he played with the bit, froth dripped from his mouth, and fell onto his sweat soaked chest. His prancing ceased, and he settled into a walk.

The quarter moon stared brokenly at the horse and woman who blended into the shadows. When it was time to turn back, Jade listlessly sat upright, and gloomily guided the stallion home.

After entering the stable, she curried him, and gave him extra feed. Leaning against his dark side, she stroked his long, lean muscles. Then silently, she left for the back passage that led into the main building. Rascon watched her pass, and noted her straight, stiff figure. It looked as if an invisible wire from the sky was pulling her up.

_A hollow puppet, _he mused as he stood in the middle of the stable with his hands on his hips, and watched her disappear into the darkness. _That's what I would feel like if I lost my son. _Jean had given him the news of Gillian's departure the day before yesterday.

Ignoring those who she passed in the staff's quarters, Jade opened the door to her room, and stepped in. Kicking off her dirty, sweat stained skirt, she tore off the rest of her clothes, and stood naked in front of the mirror. The large bruise that she'd acquired while dancing in the woods earlier that week was losing its dark mix of purple and green, and was no longer sore. Indifferently donning a clean chemise, she wrapped the robe about herself, and extinguished the gaslight.

In the quiet darkness, she listened to her heart beating, and thought wretchedly that it was an unfortunate fact of life that the human heart beat on even when it was broken.

She couldn't sleep. Instead, her mind ticked away, and painted the life that would be ahead without the child: lonely, empty, and unfulfilled.

_Stop being so selfish!_ she finally railed at herself. Gillian now had a home with a dependable parent who could take care of her—someone with enough income for a trip to Paris for business. And soon she'd have a mother, and maybe brothers and sisters.

_Selfish thing. All you care about is seeing her again, _her inner voice taunted.

_Yes, _she thought miserably. Turning onto her side, she clutched her knees to her chest, and cried.

0000

She had slept for an hour when a light touch on her shoulder awoke her. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw the yellow glow of candles reflecting off the wall that was inches from her face. Turning towards the table, Jade faced Erik's legs, which were seated in a chair beside her bed.

Blinking, she stared up at him for a few seconds before remembering where she was. For a moment, she'd thought they were back in the hayfield.

Silently she watched him. He was looking down at her with a serious expression that seemed a little sad. He was, as usual, in his evening dress, only his cape appeared to be new.

_Go away Erik, _she thought. _Go away and leave me in peace._

When he didn't move, she finally sat up, and pressed her back to the headboard. Realizing that she must be a sight, Jade turned her head towards the wall, and smoothed her mussed up, dusty hair. She was a complete mess, but she didn't care. _When he creeps up on me in my sleep he'd better not expect a rosebud._

"Jade."

His voice was quiet, melodious. The sound of her name on his lips was warm and tender, with the single syllable drawn out like a sigh. She turned her head a little, so she could watch him from the corner of her eye.

He hadn't moved, and was sitting with his legs uncrossed, as he leaned slightly forward. His hands rested quietly on his thighs. _Beautiful hands, _she pondered.

Focusing on those pale, long fingers, she thought of the hayfield and his tenderly protecting her from the cold. It would feel good to leave her bed, sit against him, and abandon her independence. He could soothe her with poetry as he held her, and she could give up this terrible loneliness. She could rest on his chest and for a few moments pretend that everything would turn out for the best. Even if he didn't love her, perhaps he could comfort her, just for tonight.

The white hands moved slightly in her direction, as if to touch her. Suddenly, she pulled back into herself. _No, I won't let him touch me! _she thought with agitation. _It's not worth it. A moment's comfort won't make up for the pain that will follow._

She wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, and leaned away from him.

There was a long sigh from his direction. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him.

Without a sound, Erik had moved his chair several feet away from the bed, and was watching her with an expressionless face. When he spoke, his voice was cool and distant.

"My dear, were you planning on spending the next week locked in your room as you recover from your affliction?" His left eyebrow lifted disdainfully.

_Not him too, _she growled to herself. Her life was a fiasco. In one day, she'd broken her dear friend's heart, lost the child that she loved, and had angered Erik as well. If Madame Truffaut and her office work hadn't existed, she would have gladly stayed in her room for the next week.

"Would you like to know how the child is faring?" Erik asked with a level tone.

In one quick motion Jade unfolded her arms, and faced him.

"Where is she?" she blurted out.

"Hush, my dear. Others will hear you," he warned with a touch of sarcasm.

Erik stared at her coolly for a few moments, and then began.

"After they left the opera house, the man and the child traveled by train to the port of Le Havre. From there, they took a carriage to a village five miles from the port. The man has a small house near the village, which he shares with a woman who is not yet his wife. Several members of the village say that they plan to marry soon."

He stopped, and his intelligent eyes raked her face, and recorded her reactions.

"Is he a kind man?" Jade asked quietly. She was perched on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap.

Shrugging slightly, he answered, " He works at the port each day, and people there say he's an amiable fellow. The child is wearing decent clothes, and appears to be doing well in her new home." Then his face resumed its inscrutable expression as he stared at her again.

_She is safe, _Jade ruminated with some relief. _And so close! Perhaps I could visit her._

Glancing at Erik, she noted that he looked like a severe teacher who was dealing with an ungrateful student. She realized that sometime between Tuesday and today, Erik had discovered that the child was missing, and had hired someone to seek out her whereabouts, and gather information about her.

His benevolence touched her. Leaving her bed, Jade knelt down in front of him, and sat back on her heels. After looking into his eyes for a long moment, she said softly, "Thank you Erik".

It came to her that it was impossible to plan ahead and make rules when it came to this man. Life with him moved too quickly to follow a set and sure path. She simply had to react to what he presented at the moment, whether it be an act of kindness or a multitude of clever tricks.

She was again indebted to him.

Her gaze fell to his hands. She wanted to touch them, rest her cheek on them, and give in to his wishes.

Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes. She couldn't tell what he was feeling. Was it protectiveness, satisfaction, lust?

"I hope that someday, I will be able to return your kindness, Erik." Then her eyes returned to his hands.

Jade stayed there until her legs became numb. When she tried to stand, her knees wobbled, and she inadvertently reached out to him. Suddenly, his strong arms were around her as he lifted her up. Setting her onto her feet, he held her around the waist, and swept the covers aside. Then he placed her onto the bed. After pulling the blankets over her, he tucked them in snuggly around her shoulders while she silently watched him with half closed eyes.

His mouth had softened, and his eyes were kind when he glanced at her. As his pale face bent over hers, her eyes traced the line of his black hair against his smooth forehead, which rose above the shadowy mask. She hoped that he might sit on the bed next to her, and read her a story like her mother used to do long ago. But there was no book, and the candles were burning low.

"Good-night Erik," she said softly when he turned away. He paused momentarily, as if he could hear her thoughts, and then left the room.

The candles were nearly spent. Waiting for the darkness to return, she shut her eyes, and fell asleep under the spell of the comforting glow.

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Later, Erik propelled the boat through the damp cavern. The still lake placidly buoyed up the craft which skated across the surface.

Against the backdrop of darkness, he recalled his trip to Le Havre earlier in the week.

On returning to his home from the province, he was soon aware of the child's absence from the opera house. He quickly arranged that Jules hire a man to meet him in LeHavre, who would assist him in investigating M. Emile Noir, the so-called cousin of the child. They had quickly obtained the facts that Erik had related to Jade that evening.

What Erik had failed to mention to her, was an oddness about the situation that perplexed him. There was something about M. Noir's sudden interest in the child that was out of place, and bore watching. Erik had arranged for the investigator to send him weekly reports concerning the child's welfare.

If the little girl had been able to tolerate his presence, Erik would have stolen her away, and brought her to his home. But she was fragile, with too vivid of an imagination. The sight of her masked guardian would have terrified her. For now, he would simply follow her current situation, and wait.

On entering his home, he stood over his worktable, and reviewed the plan of the Russian mansion that was nearly complete. Adding the last detail, he rolled it up and laid it on a small table by the door with several other plans that he would give to Jules tomorrow.

He was tired and decided to retire early. Heading to his bedroom, he undid his cravat as he walked across the carpeted floors in stocking feet. He stopped in front of a chest of drawers, and examined his most recent acquisition which sat on top.

The man had done excellent work.

Picking it up, he carried it to the guest bedroom where he placed it on the dresser, and stepped back to gauge its effect. Its vibrant subject added a presence to the room.

As he prepared for bed, he thought of the state Jade had been in tonight. He had kept an eye on her throughout the day, waiting for the moment when she would realize that the child was gone. When she returned to her room from the stable, he was standing behind the mirror, and watching as she discarded the dirty skirts. The fact that she had not bothered to change into her stable clothes reflected the depth of her distress. The bruise on her side had startled him, and his fists had clenched as he eyed it.

Erik turned down the covers, and slid into bed. Folding his arms behind his head, he shut his eyes.

When she had cried in her room, he had stood restlessly by the mirror until she finally slept. He had never heard her cry before, and it pained him to hear her sobs. When she finally slept, he had opened the mirror and stepped in.

After lighting a few candles, he watched the rise and fall of her shoulders, and resisted the temptation to lie beside her, and hold her. As he listened to her breathing, he felt the slow thudding of his heart beat in harmony with its light rhythm. It was peaceful sitting beside her. Tenderly, he leaned over and touched her shoulder.

She turned to him and looked into his eyes. Her dream-like gaze captivated him. At that moment, if she had asked for his heart, he would have given it. Then he would have taken her away to a place where Christine would never find them, so that she could not reclaim that which he had taken back.

Suddenly, Jade wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, and pulled away from him.

Groaning in his sleep, Erik stood up in his dream, and reached for her.


	34. Chapter 34 Destiny

**Chapter 34 Destiny**

Jade opened her eyes, and stared into the darkness. A shimmering awareness signaled an end to the dream. His warmth and touch were slipping away. Languidly she pressed her face into the pillow, as she tried to hold onto the fading sensations. After a few minutes, it was gone.

The floor's chill pricked her bare feet, and slid up her legs as she walked to the gaslight. Dressing quickly, she finished her toilette, and left for the offices. It was early, around five o'clock in the morning and Madame Truffaut would be there in a few minutes.

Yawning hard, she walked the corridors. It was endless night in that part of the opera house. The gaslights were always lit, and the windowless halls could have been underground for lack of sunlight. Several levels below were the cellars, giant rooms stuffed with forgotten remnants of past productions and the shards of operatic triumphs.

_This would be an ideal time to explore those rooms, _she thought, as she moved briskly down the stairs. She had extra time now that the child was gone.

Jade was glad that today would be a long one at work. There were only a few places in the opera house where she hadn't spent time with Gillian. One was the management offices and the other was the cellars below. If her memories became too troublesome, she might find a measure of peace there in the dusty bowels of the building.

Arriving at the offices, she tried the door, which was locked. As she leaned against the wall, Jade considered if she should send a letter to Pierre about Gillian's departure. If she did, he would call on her and offer her comfort, and it might hurt him to see her so soon after what had happened yesterday. On the other hand, if she didn't tell him, he would also feel hurt.

The sharp sound of Mme Truffaut's footsteps pierced the stillness, and pulled her from her thoughts. Straightening, she clasped her hands in front of her and welcomed her taskmaster.

Madame Truffaut was in a fine mood that morning. A music director for the Opéra Populaire had finally been hired, a Monsieur Francois Bellet. According to Madame, he was a brilliant talent who had left his position at a prestigious Russian opera house, and accepted the Deschamps' invitation to join the Opéra Populaire.

Jade's assignment that morning was to order goods for M Bellet's new home. The owners were making special arrangements for their prized director, who happened to be a friend of Madame Deschamps.

"Ah, he will set things right," stated Mme Truffaut as she snapped the ledger shut, and handed it to Jade. The older woman despised disorder and chaos. Although Mme Deschamps had done a remarkable job at replacing the now deceased M Meley, and had successfully launched the current opera, her inexperience had caused problems for the management department.

The morning passed quickly as Jade attended to the many details essential for establishing a residence in Paris. With a list of M Bellet's and Mme Deschamps' preferences in front of her, she wrote a stack of requisitions and letters to shops and tradesmen.

By midday, she was nearly finished. After flexing her numb and tingling fingers, she put on her cloak, and quickly walked to the delivery door.

A half hour later, she was standing by a wagon as it unloaded its goods, and dreamily gazing at the clouds that drifted overhead. The longer she watched their slow, majestic movements the more detached she felt from her unwieldy life. Their billowy shapes formed pieces of faces, and at one point Gillian's soft cheeks were clearly discernible.

The light footsteps of a woman brought her back to the harsh, chilly, day. Turning, she saw Manette, who was wearing her usual, bright smile.

Beaming gently, Manette laid a comforting hand on her friend's arm. Her light green dress and rosy cheeks reminded Jade of warmer, more carefree days.

"Jade dear, what are you doing tonight after work? Jean and I would love to have you join us for dinner. There's a restaurant that we wish to take you to."

"Thank you Manette. That's very kind of you to think of me," she replied slowly with a serious smile. "I'll be working past seven tonight, and I thought I'd retire early. Perhaps we could do it at another time?"

Manette gave her a steady look. "It would do you good to get out of this place and go somewhere new. Please, if you can not come tonight, will you at least visit with us tomorrow at our home?" Her lustrous eyes pleaded with her friend.

Sighing, Jade nodded in agreement. "I'll be working tomorrow as well. After I finish, I can join you and Jean."

Dismayed, Manette shook her head.

"Working! You should be doing something enjoyable tomorrow, not slaving here. Jade dear, there will be plenty of time to work later. Please, be kind to yourself and get away from this place."

Shaking her head 'no', Jade replied, "I can't. I've already promised Monsieur DuChant that I will be in the office tomorrow." Then shrugging her shoulders, she turned back to her work.

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Manette walked to the offices with a determined step, and firmly knocked on M DuChant's door. The voice within said, "enter" and she stepped in.

DuChant was seated at his desk, and looked up as the pretty ballet teacher entered. He recognized her immediately. She had received high praise from Mme LaCroix, the opera's ballet mistress, who had requested that she become her permanent assistant. It was simply a matter of finding a competent woman to take over the children's ballet classes, and then she could be reassigned. He had planned to speak with Mme Dubois as soon as the new arrangements were made.

"Please, have a seat. How can I help you today, Mme Dubois?" Admiring her fine complexion and graceful carriage, he held back a sigh. Her husband was a lucky man.

"If you please, Monsieur, there is a matter that I need to speak with you about. I have a friend who works in the offices, a Mlle Bouta, who has told me that she will be working extra hours tomorrow. She was very close to one of my students, the little girl Gillian, who left the opera house earlier this week. She has just heard the news of her departure. Mlle Bouta is not one to shirk her duties or complain of a misfortune, so I am here to speak on her behalf."

"Yes?" DuChant inquired, as he leaned forward slightly.

"Well Monsieur, if you would allow her to have tomorrow free, it could be very helpful in lifting her spirits," she said smoothly, as she noticed the sudden sharpness in his eyes. "These are my concerns, not hers," she quickly and demurely added.

DuChant put his fingers together and thoughtfully studied the woman in front of him. It was not an unreasonable request. Mlle Bouta had probably not heard of the child's departure when she volunteered to work the extra day. She could make up the lost hours at another time. If Pierre knew about her situation he would certainly be here asking for the same thing.

Pierre was convinced that the woman had saved his life. If his friend was correct, Duchant owed her a great deal.

Returning his attention to the papers in front of him, he bluntly replied, "I will consider your request, Mme Dubois. Good day."

Manette rose, and quickly slipped out of the office before Jade returned.

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It was evening, and Jade was finishing her work. Madame Truffaut had left over an hour ago after she'd told her that she wouldn't be needed tomorrow.

Locking the door, she pushed the key under it, and walked towards her room. She wasn't hungry, and had decided to go to bed early. The day had been relatively easy but she still felt strangely tired, as if she could sleep the entire night and late into the next day. Since she didn't need to work tomorrow, she would spend the morning in bed. Then she'd go to mass, and to the cemetery to visit Meley's grave. After that, she would dine with Manette and Jean in their home.

The only part of tomorrow that she looked forward to was her morning in bed.

Today had been harder than she had expected. There were too many details that reminded her of Gillian. Marie had worn red ribbons in her hair, and one of the delivery boys had bright blue eyes. Filling one of the orders for flowers had brought to mind Gillian's enthusiasm for those vivacious colors. Endless reminders had finally overcome her barriers, and she had found herself fighting back the tears.

Walking slowly to her room, she chose a route that avoided the ballet classrooms.

The halls of the staff quarters were empty. It was close to eight o'clock and those who were not working at the performance had gone out to the local nightlife, to one of the many cafés of Paris. A favorite past time of the staff was to dine with their friends as they commented on and argued about life.

Stepping into her room, Jade lit the gaslight, and turned to the table. Propped against a candleholder was a letter. Quickly, she opened it.

**My dear Jade,**

**Would you please join me tonight?**

**I will be waiting for you in the room where we met on opening night.**

**Bring the cloak that I gave you.**

**Erik**

Jade stared at the bold handwriting, and then placed the letter in the drawer with his other notes. Sitting on the bed, she considered what to do. She didn't want to spend time with anyone tonight. All she wanted was to sleep. But if she didn't follow his wishes, he would come to her room later, and be annoyed. Besides, she was in debt to him for giving her news about Gillian's whereabouts.

Lying on the bed, she rested for a few moments, and recalled the morning's dream where she had lain in his arms. It had been so easy between them, and comfortable.

_If only he had a simpler mind, _she pondered. But he didn't. And frankly, she had to admit that it was one of the reasons his pull on her was so strong. His brilliance was tantalizing.

Getting up, she swung the cloak over her shoulders. Then wrapping her violet scarf about her throat, she left her room.

The storage room was dark and silent when she entered. Shutting the door, she rested her back against it, and waited. Moments later there was a faint grating sound followed by a draft. A match was struck, and Erik stood before her.

Perhaps it was the eeriness of the setting or her fatigue, but Jade felt a sudden chill across her arms when she looked at the tall man dressed in black. He was gracefully bending over a lantern and looked almost serpentine in the darkness.

She watched as he lit the wick with one smooth sweep of his hand. His powerful looking figure and decisive movements fascinated her. He was different than he had been in her dream. His face was harsher in the lantern light and his eyes had an intense, burning quality that frightened her a little.

Erik drew closer, and silently faced her. He smiled slightly as he invitingly held his hand out. There was an air of controlled excitement about him, and Jade realized that tonight was to be different.

"Where are we going, Erik?" she calmly asked.

His eyes gleamed as he gazed at her for a long moment.

"Jade, the time has come to take you to my home," he replied quietly.

In the shifting light, his white mask emerged from the darkness, and stared fiercely at her. Startled, she stepped back, and braced herself against the door as her knees went weak.

Erik's mouth formed a line as he waited for her answer.

Watching him warily, she gathered her wits about her. She had known this day would eventually come. She just hadn't expected that it would be this soon. _I'm not ready! _she wanted to cry out. _I need more time._

Then out of the blue, an old, familiar sensation arose: a buzzing pulsation along her spine. It was the signal which always heralded a life changing event.

Jade's eyes widened with astonishment as the comprehension hit her.

_It's him!__**Erik's the reason I came here**._

Shutting her eyes, she felt a surge of energy, and remembered.

Nearly two months ago, she had stood outside of a café, and gazed at the opera house in the distance. At that time, that same sensation had come to her, the one that always pointed the way. And she had obeyed it, just as she had weeks before when it had guided her to Paris.

_I have to go with him._

Something important was about to happen, and she needed to make the right choice. But she wouldn't rush into it blindly. It was her decision, and she would make it on her terms.

Tilting her chin up, she opened her eyes, and looked firmly into his.

He was studying her. His eyes were moving across her face and body, and taking in every detail

"Very well, Erik, she said evenly. "However, before we go, I have a few conditions."

"Conditions?" he asked coolly. Without having moved an inch, he suddenly seemed to tower over her, and his smile had vanished.

Shifting her weight, her knees lost their weakness, and her spine stiffened.

"Yes. First, I want you to promise me that you will bring me back when I ask you to."

Erik stared down at her, and his jaw tightened. The small lines at the corner of his eyes disappeared from the tension in his face.

"Are you so sure that I will honor a promise that I make to you, my dear?" he replied in a low, threatening voice.

Resisting the urge to nervously lick her lips, Jade tilted her chin a bit higher.

"Yes, I believe that you _will_ honor a promise that you make to me, Erik," she answered boldly.

Eyeing her, his expression softened a bit.

She continued. "Secondly, I ask that while I am with you, that you behave like a gentleman at all times."

A snort of disgust escaped Erik as he stared at her with annoyance.

"And what sort of guarantee would that be? A gentleman's arrogance is no safeguard," he replied icily.

"Yes, I know," she said patiently. "However, you know as well as I that there are codes of conduct that real gentleman follow when dealing with women, and that's what I am asking of you," Jade countered.

Seeing his frustration over that stipulation, she knew she was right to ask it of him. Who knew what cozy plans he would carry out once he got her to his home? She would not battle with him there, and fight off overtly seductive behavior when she was at his mercy.

Erik gave her a curt nod.

"Is that all?" he asked caustically, as he continued to loom over her.

"There is one more thing," she said softly.

Unwrapping the violet scarf from around her throat, she placed it in his hands. Erik watched her with cool interest.

"Not too long ago, I was asked by a priest in the confessional if I knew where you lived. At the time, I didn't, so I couldn't reveal it and betray you. I fear that someday I will be asked it again."

She paused, and looked earnestly into his eyes. "I'm a terrible liar, Erik. They'll know if I'm hiding the truth. And perhaps they'll find a way to get it out of me."

Erik's eyes were fixed on hers.

"If you blindfold me, I won't be able to see where we go. However, you must also distract me by talking to me or reciting poetry. I have a very good memory, and I'd be able to remember the way if you didn't do that. And, if you are able to, carrying me would be advisable as well."

Looking down, she exhaled and waited.

A moment later, his gloved hand was under her chin, and tilted it up so that her eyes met his.

"Agreed," he said gently.

Jade closed her eyes, and felt the scarf snugly bind them shut. Then he lifted her into his arms, and the door slid behind them.

The handle of the lantern was pressed against her hand. "Hold this," he said. She grasped the light, and held it in front of them.

This time he held her close to him as he carried her. Her right side pressed against his waistcoat, and she felt his heart beating.

"If I'm to recite poetry to you, my dear, than I shall give full credit to the author of said work. This is a verse by Byron."

As he spoke, his voice filled her mind, and its beauty flowed around her like a silvery mist. She forgot his steps and turns, and lost herself in the moment. 

After awhile, she wondered if he tired of carrying her. But his arms held her firmly, and his gait didn't falter. As she leaned her head against his shoulder, her cheek rubbed the fine fabric of his suit.

Then Erik stopped his recitation, and stood still.

"Part of our trip is by boat," he said. Slowly, he lowered her into the waiting craft.

The boat tilted slightly as he set her inside, and then again when he entered. Her arms shot out to its sides, and gripped them fiercely. She hadn't anticipated this part, and her breathing quickened as the fear rushed into her.

Jade hadn't been in a boat since she was sixteen. Since then, she had avoided them at all costs. As the boat began to move, she heard the spatter of drops falling from the paddle, which dipped and slid through the water. The sound grated on her nerves. Biting her lip, she steeled herself against the fear. But it was no use. After a few minutes, she began to shake as she held on for her life.

After what seemed like an eternity, a voice cut through her panic.

"Jade, I can remove the blindfold if it would make you more comfortable."

His voice was gentle and warm. She nodded in agreement. A moment later, it was off, and she was looking at the man in front of her.

The lantern was at her back, and cast an amber glow on Erik who was seated a few feet away. His eyes rested steadily on her face, as he gauged her reactions. He had a slight frown.

Abruptly turning her face away from him, she tried to compose herself. She felt ashamed of her fear. The terror only appeared when she was on water. She wished she could purge it from her mind, but she had no idea how.

Erik began to paddle again, and Jade held her anxiety at bay by thinking about where they were. Where was all the water coming from? And there were no stars. They must be within a cavern. It would explain the sound of his voice, which had a resonating quality as if they were inside the auditorium.

Looking up at Erik, she saw that he was still watching her. But, instead of his face showing contempt or mockery, which she had expected, there was concern and another feeling that she didn't recognize.

Eventually he stopped paddling, and the boat drifted for a minute. Then it lightly touched the shore. Erik stepped out, and pulled the craft onto land. Reaching down, he lifted her out of the boat.

He carried her to a building that in the blackness was only noticeable when they were upon it. _He has eyesight better than a cat's, _she marveled.

Suddenly, a door opened before them.

Inside was a room that blazed with candlelight. Jade stepped forward, her eyes blinking from the brightness. Then she heard the door shut behind her. She turned around, and saw Erik leaning against the door with an inscrutable look on his face and his eyes burning into hers.

Straightening, he stepped towards her and with an elegant sweep of his hand, invited her to take in the wonders of his abode.

Smoothly, he declared, "My dear Jade, welcome to my home."


	35. Chapter 35 Adaptation

**Chapter 35 Adaptation**

Drenched in candlelight, Erik and Jade silently faced each other.

"Allow me to assist you, my dear." Before she could respond, he had closed the gap between them. His long fingers slipped beneath her cloak, and brushed her collarbones as he lifted it from her shoulders.

Placing her soft garment next to his dark one, he turned and caught her eye. The spark of excitement that was there vanished as a false calm settled on her face.

Erik suppressed a smile, and savored his victory. She was finally here in his home.

_Behave like a gentleman, indeed!_ He thought with amusement, as he strolled towards her. _We shall see, my dear, how long you wish me to keep that promise. _He felt relaxed, and confident as he looked down at her impassive face which tilted up to his.

"Are you hungry?" he casually asked. He knew she'd missed supper the last two days. The weight she'd put on during her absence from Paris was becoming. However, it would disappear if she continued to skip meals. Erik decided that he would not allow those soft curves to waste away.

As he examined her, he realized that food wasn't on her mind. Her slight shifting from one foot to the next with a quick glance at his book cases showed her true interest.

"While I am getting our supper, you are welcome to walk around my home," he said formally, and then turned to the kitchen.

Once there, he loaded a tray with quiche, bread, pastries, fruit and cheese. Opening a bottle of red wine, he set it on the tray next to a vase that held a trailing spray of snowy orchids. As the tips of his fingers caressed a curled petal, he meditated on how that exotic blossom suited his guest. Orchids required careful cultivation but once cut, held their beauty for weeks.

While carrying the food to the table, Erik watched as Jade studied his book collection. She was scanning titles, and touching books as she moved from one bookcase to the other. At the sound of him clearing his throat, she abruptly turned towards him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Then lifting her chin slightly, she walked towards him with a smooth, unhesitating gait.

It struck him how rapidly she was adjusting to his home. _No hesitation. It is as if she knows that she belongs here. _

Christine had also seemed to fit well the first night he had brought her here. But what a contrast between her and Jade! Whereas Christine had been pliable and fragile, Jade had the air of an adventurer.

_She will be harder to control,_ he considered as he held back a smirk His eyes sparkled in anticipation of that pleasurable challenge.

As they sat down, her green eyes settled on the point between his eyebrows and then momentarily met his. _She never stares directly at the mask_, he mused as he returned her piercing gaze.

_If I had not been overconfident and carelessly dropped my guard, Christine_ _would not have removed the mask and she would be here with me tonight, _he meditated as Jade lowered her eyes

_Never again, _he resolved, as he handed a plate of food to Jade. The mask would remain in place. Regardless of how much she might come to trust or love him, he would not repeat that mistake.

Leaning back in his chair, Erik watched his companion. He had wondered for a very long time what it would feel like to experience every day events with a woman. Greedily, he memorized every nuance of their shared meal.

Jade's eyes closed with pleasure as she tasted the savory quiche. The tip of her moist tongue smoothly removed the crumbs on her lips. Erik's groin tightened in response to its darting sweep. He followed her small hands as she sliced the cheese for both of them. When she offered him the plate, and raised her eyes to his, he unabashedly stared into them.

"Wine, my dear?" Erik inquired, and then poured her a third of a glass before she could reply.

"Is it a young wine?" she asked curiously.

"No."

Turning the glass in her hand, she assessed the liquid's ruby color. He watched her swirl the wine briefly before she deeply inhaled its aroma. Then taking a sip, she rolled it around her mouth, and analyzed its complex flavor.

_Yes, my dear. It is a very good vintage. I would have no less in my home._

She was sampling the wine as if she were a connoisseur, which reminded him of her past.

Weeks ago, on the night that she had shared a bottle of wine with his rival, Erik had stood behind the mirror and listened to her history. At that time, he had learned that Jade was an only child, the daughter of a wine merchant in the province of Burgundy. Her father was a successful businessman with a substantial income for his class. She had grown up with certain luxuries such as a private education in a local nunnery. When she wasn't studying, she had roamed her beloved wine country with its lakes and rolling hills of vineyards.

At the age of seventeen, she had left her home, her departure precipitated by her mother's death.

Erik had thought it an unusual story. Young, rural women of the petite bourgeoisie class didn't suddenly leave their families and end up in Paris years later unless there was a husband involved. She had not mentioned one to the farmer.

As she neatly put the food into her mouth, he wondered what she had done to keep body and soul together over the years. She didn't look much older than twenty. However, three years could be a very long time if one was struggling to survive.

"Do you like the vintage?" Erik queried.

"Yes," she replied, and without thinking asked, "it is from the vineyards near the Chateau du Clos de Vougeot, no?"

Smiling slightly, Erik acquiesced with a brief nod as he glanced at the unlabeled bottle. He had paid a pretty sum for that particular batch of wine from Burgundy. It was satisfying to share it with someone who recognized its special qualities.

After a long silence, Erik spoke again. "Did you see a book that interests you?"

Jade shot a brilliant look at him, and then lowered her eyes to her plate.

"There are a couple possibilities." She paused as she considered her answer. The flush of excitement had returned to her cheeks. Then as if to calm her passion, she reached for a second helping of quiche.

With a satisfied smile, Erik placed the pastries in front of her, and tempted her to take one. Her appetite was back, which was a good sign.

After their meal, they sat on the couch, sipped wine, and read. Jade was paging through a book she had selected, the Dictionnaire Philosophique by Voltaire. On the couch between them was her other selection, an illustrated book of Japanese architecture, one of Erik's favorites.

Utterly wrapped up in her reading, she seemed to have forgotten his presence. Now and then she absent-mindedly played with the violet scarf around her neck, which suggested that she might be chilled. Erik left the room, and returned with a black, embroidered shawl from Spain. As he draped it around her shoulders, Jade sat very still. When he returned to his seat, her eyes were fixed on him.

"That is very kind of you, Erik," she said quietly.

"It is nothing, Jade. My home is sometimes chilly, and I want you to feel comfortable." Staring at his book, he watched her from the corner of his eye, and saw that she continued to gaze at him for another a minute.

When they'd finished the wine, Erik stood, and held his hand out to her.

"It is getting late, my dear. Perhaps you would care to see the rest of my home?" he asked with a silky voice.

Putting the book aside, she took his hand. Erik led her out of the large room and through the kitchen to the rooms beyond. They paused in front of a thick, oak door which he opened.

Inside was a bedroom with a pink canopied bed. The walls were painted in a delicate rosy color with cream-colored trim that pulsed in the candlelight. The room held a potpourri of furniture and a bookcase next to the bed that was half filled with books.

Jade glanced up at him with a question in her eyes. Erik strode past her, and gestured for her to follow. The room beyond held a private bath. Her eyes brightened when she saw the pink marble, sunken bath with a dozen candles surrounding it. Gathered next to the bath were soaps, bath oils, herbs, and other small luxuries.

Erik leaned across the tub, and turned the hot water on for a moment. Then he turned to his guest.

"It was late when I left your room last night. I assume you did not have the opportunity to bathe before you retired. You are welcome to use this before you leave."

Quickly, she glanced at the door, and then stared at him with her eyebrow raised. Erik responded with a brief, dry laugh.

"The door to the bedroom has a bolt on it that is quite sturdy, my dear. Feel free to use it while you bathe."

Returning to the bedroom, he stopped in front of a swatch of fabric draped across the wall. Then he turned and stared at her with an unspoken command.

Cautiously, Jade left the bath, and joined him.

She was looking at him as if she were expecting a trick. _She wonders what I am about to spring on her next, _Erik thought with a little discomfort. His previous manipulations were beginning to haunt his good intentions.

_Well, she is flexible, and she will learn to trust my motives._

"Jade, if I may ask, when is your birthday?"

A flicker of emotion crossed her eyes. The wariness that she had adopted faded, and her face softened.

"It is this month, on the twenty third." Then after considering a moment, she added, "I will be twenty-three."

"Good. In that case, you may regard this as an early birthday gift," he said as he looked steadily at her. His fingers curled around the fabric, and deftly pulled it off the wall.

The little girl in the painting stared up at them from her task of tying her ballet shoelaces. The artist had captured her bold look of curiosity and excitement, giving her the charm of real life. The bright crystals of the pastel painting caught the nearby candlelight, which caused the portrait to glow with an unworldly light.

Jade stared at Gillian's image with wide, unwavering eyes. When she finally turned to Erik, there were tears in them.

"Erik…" she said softly. Suddenly, she reached up, and pulled his face toward hers. Then she gave him a long, soft kiss on the cheek. Taking his hands, she pressed them to her mouth, and kissed each one in turn.

"Thank you."

When she reached up, and took his face in her hands, Erik wanted to pull her to him, and kiss her. Instead, he suppressed his passion, and gave himself up to the sensation of her soft lips on his face. His pounding heart slowed a bit when she released his hands.

Slowly, he traced the line of her jaw with his first two fingers as he looked into her grateful eyes. "Jade," he said with a touch of huskiness, "the bedroom door is very secure if you bolt it. Will you stay the night? I will bring you back in the morning, in time for mass."

Stepping back, she wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. When she looked up at him, her eyes had become older and serene. Reaching for his hand, she held it momentarily and said, "Yes Erik, I will stay with you tonight."

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Easing into the steaming bath, Jade stretched out with a sigh. What a pleasure it was to lie in this warm pool! There was hot and cold running water at her command, with fragrant herbs to doctor her bath. The tensions of the day slipped away as a blissful peace took hold. In her imaginings, she had never expected that a place such as this existed. All she'd known was that wherever Erik lived, it would be extraordinary.

Part of her wanted to steal a lantern, and explore the hidden cavern that lay outside. But it was pointless to try to slip past Erik. The man lived and breathed darkness, and probably had the ears of a wild animal. He certainly had the eyes of a cat.

Snorting at that, she dipped her head into the water, and doused her hair. While running her soapy fingers through the dark mass, she reflected on a remarkable evening. Oddly enough, sharing a meal with Erik in his home as he silently watched her hadn't felt unusual. She'd grown accustomed to his scrutiny and silence.

The large room they'd dined in was splendid. There were marble floors covered with fine woolen rugs of intricate design. A magnificent organ was set on a dais against a backdrop of mirrors. The tall bookcases that covered one wall were full of books with amazing topics and foreign titles. She could easily spend months here reading.

Finishing her scrub, she lay back in the tub and let her mind wander. After all the excitement, she felt pleasantly content. Poking her toes through the suds, she lazily wondered what he thought of her being in his home. His fondness for her was obvious. But what else did he feel?

Languidly her hands moved across her glistening belly, and up to her breasts as she recalled how his broad shoulders had sensuously swayed when he'd walked ahead of her into the bedroom. For a moment, she'd thought that he was about to break his promise, and a thrill had mingled with her fear.

She shivered as she thought of the gift. The man was a genius when it came to knowing her heart! And now she was in his home, adjacent to his brilliant mind, with the only barrier between them a bolt on her bedroom door.

_A charming bedroom_. _How many women have slept here before me? _The thought of an amorous Erik with overnight guests was too much. Quickly, she exited the tub, and dried herself on the soft rug.

Strolling into the bedroom, she rubbed the towel across her hair, and sat down in front of the vanity mirror. After gathering the towel around her waist, she combed out her hair. The air was a little chilly on her bare shoulders and breasts, and its brisk fingers kept her awake long enough to complete her task. She rifled through the dresser and found a cotton chemise that was similar to the one she usually wore. The wardrobe produced a robe that also looked very much like the one she had in the opera house. Wrapping it around her, she walked to the painting, and stared at it while continuing to comb out her hair.

The tears returned as she gazed at the exquisite depiction of the child. The fine flaxen hair, the delicate heart shaped face, it was all there, encapsulated in time.

Sighing deeply, Jade looked for the artist's signature. The painter's style was familiar. At the bottom of the picture she found the name: Degas.

Her mouth opened with astonishment. _How could he have known?_

0000

Poking her head out of the bedroom door, Jade listened to the undulating melody that filled the hall. Leaning towards it, she was strongly tempted to go to its source.

She looked down at her robe. What would he think of her wandering around his home with a wet head and a frumpy wrap? Would she be intruding?

_If I retire with wet hair in the morning it will be an unmanageable mane, _she reasoned. Why _not_ spend the next hour with Erik? The concert in the church had had an untimely end. This was a chance to hear him play again.

Quietly moving to the kitchen, she peered around the doorframe at the man who was seated at the organ.

Erik's face was tilted up as his shoulders and back moved in rhythm to the music. He had removed his coat and waistcoat, and was wearing a white shirt, which hung open at the chest. From her viewpoint, the white mask covered his face. Its rise and fall as he extended and flexed his neck was mesmerizing. The inanimate object had been brought to life by the music's spell.

Turning away, she stood with her back pressed against the kitchen wall, and shut her eyes. She could feel the music in her throat, and breasts. Its soft, tender quality swirled, and permeated her senses. She could _smell_ it. It had the rich scent of vanilla mingled with the light perfume of the white orchids.

Dreamily, she opened her eyes, and wondered if she should take a seat at the couch. She was safe here, in the kitchen, away from his penetrating eyes. If he saw her attraction for him what would he do?

Again she looked into the room at his moving figure. He was beautiful in the candlelight.

Suddenly, Jade felt shy and awkward as she realized how silly she was being. _I'm behaving like a love struck child._

_Erik is not someone to swoon over,_ she coolly reminded herself. He was far too dangerous and unpredictable to be making sheep's eyes at. When he chose to, the man breathed fire.

Pushing aside her troublesome feelings, she grimly studied him, and decided it was time to squelch this foolishness. Briskly, she walked across the room, and sat upon the coach. If he noticed her, he gave no indication. The music continued.

It was the same melody with variations. Sometimes it was soft and sweet, and at other times it had a sweeping grace. It was endless, and appeared to have taken over its player who seemed to have lost touch with everything else around him.

Jade listened intently, and after awhile, her tension melted. There was something very pure about the way Erik joined with his music. It was as if it was a living being, and he was allowing it to use him so that its voice could be heard. _It's like the music in my mind. _ _I don't pick or choose what will come. While it's with me, I live and breathe it until it leaves._

That soothed her. Erik and she were alike. He was a kindred spirit.

Her head felt heavy, so she rested it on the arm of the couch. Moments later, she was curled up on it, and quietly breathing as Erik's music followed her into her dreams.

0000

Jade awoke in the canopied bed. Her eyelids quivered, and then closed as she rolled onto her side. The candles were still lit. She could see the golden glow through her eyelids. Sighing, she settled deeper into the soft mattress that cupped her body. Something warm swept across her hair. A hand gently stroked it. She had just left a dream where he had been holding her in his arms. It was natural and right that his hand was still with her.

"Erik," she murmured. Then she fell back to sleep.

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Erik stood over her, and intently watched as she disappeared into her dreams. He smiled when she said his name.


	36. Chapter 36 Companions

**Chapter 36 Companions**

Gripping the sides of the boat, Jade rode the empty, still lake, and doggedly stared at the man in front of her. The lantern's amber light shifted with each stroke of the paddle as the craft shot across the water. Erik was wasting no time in getting her through this dreadful trip.

Before entering the boat, she'd stared grimly at the narrow, delicate looking craft with a lump of dread in her throat. A bitter taste coated her mouth. If he hadn't been at her side, she would have spat it out.

When they were well on their way, Erik's distant voice penetrated the murky tension.

"Jade, I have crossed this lake thousands of times, and have swam it as well. I promise you that no harm will come to you while I am here."

She nodded. Her mind told her that his promise should be enough, but fear overrode reason. As she grasped the boat's sides, her eyes remained glued on Erik's pale face.

0000

The morning had begun easily enough for her. When she awoke, Jade quickly finished her toilette, and entered the front room. There she found Erik seated at his large work table. He was turning an odd mechanical device around in his hands, and appeared to be studying its inner workings. In front of him was a diagram with notes.

Curious, she approached, and Erik looked up at her. "Good morning, my dear," he said with a smooth voice.

Taking a seat, she replied, "Good morning, Erik. What time is it?" She had yet to find a timepiece in his home.

Returning his attention to the strange contraption in his hands, he replied distantly, "I would estimate that it is nine thirty." After scribbling on the piece of paper, he set the device down, and turned alert eyes to her.

"Would you care for breakfast this morning?" His cool, assessing manner had returned.

_He knows as well as I that things have changed, _she pondered as she nodded her assent. _The question he should be asking is where do we go from here?_

They ate in comfortable silence as Jade stared at the mechanism on the table. It was like nothing she'd seen before. She wanted to ask him what it was, but hesitated. Like a number of things in Erik's home, it provoked curiosity. But it wasn't her way to ask questions. She'd learned long ago that it was best to keep her mouth shut if she didn't know exactly what was going on.

Her unfeminine interest in mechanical devices and machines stretched back to her childhood. When she was seven, her father had taken her with him to the local wineries to show off his pretty little daughter. One man had been particularly delighted by her intense interest in the machinery. He used to lift her up onto his shoulders, and carry her about as he explained the mechanisms. Jade's bright eyes had followed his gestures, as she raptly listened to him.

The next year when they'd returned, the same man had asked her if she could remember anything he'd told her from the year before. Proudly, Jade had repeated the man's explanations almost verbatim. Then she'd smiled up at him, and waited for a nod of approval. Instead, he'd frowned, and given her father an uneasy look.

On the trip home, her father had scowled at her, and then ignored her. It was the last time he took her to the wineries.

Jade knew then that if she'd only kept her mouth shut, everything would have been fine.

Erik's voice broke through her thoughts.

"After mass, will you be going to the cemetery?"

Gazing at him, she noted his warm curiosity. He seemed younger this morning. Had the music that he had played last night done him some good? _Or maybe it's because he has a guest in his home._

"Yes."

His steady gaze reminded her of something else. Self consciously, she smoothed her hair which was tied tightly back with one of the satin ribbons that she'd found in the dresser drawer. The thick mass was fuller than usual, wilder, with strands of hair escaping the binding. Her hair had been damp when he'd carried her to bed last night. At the moment, she looked like a wooly, young filly.

"I will arrange for a carriage to meet you after mass and take you to and from the cemetery," he said, with a slight smile.

Finishing her meal, she dabbed her mouth with the napkin. Then pushing her plate aside, she said, "Thank you, Erik. But you have already done a great deal for me. I will be fine walking to the cemetery. Please don't trouble yourself on my account."

She waited for his reaction. His smile disappeared and his distant air returned.

After a minute, he asked quietly, "Would you like to take the painting with you?"

Her eyes widened. "May I?" she exclaimed.

"It is yours. You may do with it as you wish," Erik firmly stated. He leaned back, and watched her.

Brushing her initial excitement aside, Jade considered his offer. She wanted the painting very much but to have it in her room might mean she would have to explain how she'd acquired it. Anyone who knew her circumstances would know that she was incapable of buying it. Its presence could provoke questions.

Shifting in her chair, Jade glanced about the room, and then met his gaze. "I think it would be best if it remained here. Then I can see it whenever I visit you."

Erik smiled slowly, and nodded his approval.

Now that they were in agreement, Jade decided to bring up another matter.

"I'd like to return to the opera house," she said calmly.

He gave her a brief, intense look, and rose. "Very well," he replied. Immediately, he retrieved their cloaks, and handed Jade hers.

It was midmorning and pitch black in the cavern. Lighting the lantern, he took her hand and led her to the boat. In the dim light, she saw the sharp ridges of rock at her feet, and realized why he had carried her from the boat to his home last night. The cavern's floor was treacherous. Firmly, she held his hand as they walked to the lake.

0000

The boat skimmed the water, as Jade tried not to think of the dead men's bones that she _knew_ were at the bottom of the lake. Instead, she focused on the new melody in her mind, which was akin to the one Erik had played last night.

The cave's blackness pressed in on her. Her terror warned that they were sliding towards doom. _Well, at least I will have an interesting companion._

The paddling stopped, and they drifted. Then the boat touched land. He jumped out, pulled it ashore, and helped her out of it.

The solid land was glorious. Jade wanted to do a little dance of gratitude. Instead, she unwrapped the scarf from her neck, and handed it to Erik.

In the pale light, his glittering eyes stared down at her. Goose bumps rose at the thought of being back in his arms. Turning her back to him, she waited for the sensation of the thick scarf across her eyes. Then his strong arms hoisted her up, and they began to move.

For his recitation, he chose a passage from Dante.

As he held her close, she had the distinct feeling that he was taking possession of her. Or perhaps it was something else—a false intimacy caused by his pounding heart against her body. It was beating faster than before, nearly jumping out of his chest. _It's because he's walking up hill quickly as he carries me, _she reasoned. Still, this trip was different from the last two, and it caused her own heart to pick up its pace.

When they arrived at the passage door, Erik set her down. "I will come for you tomorrow night," he said in a low voice.

Jade looked up at him with unblinking eyes. "Can you meet me on the bridle path tomorrow night after supper? If it rains, I'll wait for you in the stable."

Taking her hand, he kissed her fingers with a gentleman's ease. A moment later, the hidden door to the storage room opened, and she was back in that small, dusty room. Turning, Jade expected to see him beside her, but the door had closed, and she was alone.

0000

After mass, Jade knelt in the church, and watched the noon rays pour through deeply hued windows. She wondered if her prayers would be stronger when blessed by such beauty.

Closing her eyes, she prayed that she would see Gillian soon, before the child forgot her.

Leaving the church, she walked east along the Boulevard Haussmann, in the direction of the cemetery of Père Lachaise. As she strolled beside the wide street, she studied the buildings. Most of them had been constructed within the last decade. Erik had told her that they were the result of the "blind vision" of the Prefect of the Seine, Baron Haussmann, who had been responsible for the destruction of much of Old Paris during the last decade.

Jade wondered why Erik regarded them with disdain. There was nothing garish about the architecture. Rather, it was a relatively simple design of restrained classicism. The five storied structures were dressed in limestone as were many of the city's older buildings. Perhaps it was their uniform appearance that he scorned.

_His standard of beauty is higher than that of other men._ Having been to his home, and seen its grace, she understood him a little better. Beauty was very important to Erik.

_In that case, what does he see in me?_ By no stretch of the imagination would anyone consider her a great beauty. And yet, he was attracted to her. It was easy to see that by the way he had attended to her when she was in his home. _He wants more than a companion. Perhaps he wants a mistress as well._

She shook her head, and sped up her pace. She needed to sort out her feelings before dealing with Erik's needs. As long as there were these childish longings for him, they would get in the way. In her heart, she knew that she wasn't meant to be simply his mistress, someone who would amuse him with her body. They were destined to be more to each other.

As she reached the outskirts of the city, the enormous gate of the cemetery rose before her. Passing between the tall, stone pillars, she made her way down the path to Meley's resting place. There she spent the next hour praying for his soul. When finished, she slowly walked back to the entrance, and casually viewed the decorated tombs and statues.

It was near Moliere's grave that she heard a carriage coming up from behind her. Stepping to the side, she waited for it to pass. As the carriage window floated by, Jade spied a familiar face. It was the gentleman that she had met at the party, the one with whom she had discussed the painting, M. Raoul de Chagny.

The carriage continued a few meters down the road, and came to an abrupt halt. Its door swung open, and the man stepped out and faced her.

"Mademoiselle Bouta, what a pleasant surprise it is to see you again," he said with the same warm smile that he'd had at their first meeting. "Are you returning to the city?" Raoul had quickly closed the gap between them, and was standing in front of her.

Jade studied his face, and again liked what she saw.

"Yes, M. de Chagny. I am exercising my legs on this fine day."

He looked up at the cloudless sky, and smiled brightly at her.

"I do not wish to impose upon your solitude. However, if you find the idea of company agreeable, I will gladly offer you the service of my carriage."

Impulsively, Jade nodded.

Inside the elegant carriage, they looked across at each other and smiled. Then Raoul spoke.

"I am sorry that we missed you at Monsieur and Madame Verdi's supper a week ago. Your friends told me that you were not in Paris, and could not attend."

Looking surprised, Jade replied, "You were there as well? Yes, I am sorry that I missed it, but I was needed elsewhere. Did you enjoy the conversation that night?"

With a charming smile, he leaned slightly towards her. "It was fine enough, but I would have liked to have continued our discussion about the Impressionists. Unfortunately, no one else was interested in the subject." He paused for a moment. "Have you been to the Louvre?"

Shaking her head 'no', Jade's eyes sparkled at that name. "I have heard of it, but I've never had the opportunity to go there. Is it open to the public?"

Raoul smiled again. His hair was tied back, and its blond shade was a handsome contrast to his black suit coat. His cape lay on the seat. Apparently he was indifferent to the chill of the day.

"Yes. It is for all French citizens. If you would care to accompany me, I would gladly arrange a visit. I would appreciate your company, and hearing your impressions of the great works."

Looking at his hand, Jade noticed the wedding ring, and wondered what Mme de Chagny would think about an unknown woman visiting an art museum with her husband. Was she so indifferent to great art that her husband was forced to invite strangers to accompany him?

Following her glance, Raoul automatically touched the ring, and continued. "My wife has never been there either. In the last few months she has had her mind on other matters. You see, Mademoiselle, we are soon to have our first child."

"How fortunate for the both of you!" Jade cried. "Will it be soon?"

Shifting in his seat, he frowned slightly. She could see the worry in his eyes.

"Hopefully, very soon. The doctors say that the child could come any day. As we speak, she is in her room resting. She has been very tired lately." His voice trailed off and Jade could feel his tension. _He loves her very much and is afraid he will lose her. _She wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand and ease his discomfort.

"I will pray for the three of you, that you will soon have a healthy baby, and that your wife will recover quickly from giving birth," Jade said quietly. Then she gazed at him with soft, concerned eyes.

The coach passed the Place de Republique, and continued on through the tenth arrondissement. Finally it approached the street that Jean and Manette lived on.

Taking her leave, Jade stepped from the carriage. She glanced at the crest that was on the door, and sealed it into her memory. Realizing that she'd been riding with nobility, she wondered what his title was.

"Are you certain that it will be fine to leave you here?" asked Raoul as he looked about the street. "I can take you to your friend's door."

Shaking her head 'no', Jade replied, "I will be fine, Monsieur. Thank you for the ride, and the conversation."

Raoul nodded, and handed her his card. "Once our child is born, we will again be receiving visitors. I hope that you will come to our home in the near future. My wife and I would enjoy visiting with you."

Jade smiled as she looked down at the small card in her hand. Then she replied, "If you wish to contact me, I can be reached at the management offices of the Opéra Populaire."

At the mention of the opera house, a strange expression crossed her companion's face, a quick flash of surprise and pain. Immediately, she responded to its hidden meaning by saying, "Or you could send word to me through my friends who I am visiting today."

She gave him the alternate address, and they parted.

Walking up the narrow street, she was soon at her friends' door. After a firm knock, it opened and Jean stood in front of her.

"Jade, I'm glad to see you! Manette is in the kitchen tussling with the goose, and has banished me to the front room. I'm in need of a companion. Come in at once."

Smiling at Jean's impish face, Jade stepped in, and left the afternoon's chill behind.

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After dinner, the three friends sat around the fire and talked. Manette was knitting clothes for the baby while Jade busily worked on a blanket for the cradle. Jean sat across from them with his feet up as he sipped absinthe.

"Well Jade, I can't tell you how wonderful it is to have someone here whom I can drink with again. In the last couple of weeks, Manette has developed an intense dislike for anything that resembles alcohol. Lately, I've been feeling very much alone." He put on a sad clownish grin.

Manette wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I am having enough trouble keeping my breakfast down. The thought of that vile, green liquid is enough to bring it up. Now, if you could offer me a good Beaujolais, I might join you."

At the mention of morning sickness, Jade quickly looked her over. She was relieved to see that Manette didn't appear to be wasting away. Her cheeks had color, and she still had her soft curves.

Manette caught her eye, and dropped her knitting long enough to squeeze her friend's hand.

"Do not worry about me, Jade. I really am doing quite well. The morning sickness will soon pass. My mother and my sisters also had it, and they survived," she said with a slight smile.

Jean was watching the two women with warm eyes. Suddenly, Jade wanted them both on the couch beside her. Their happiness was balm for her aching heart.

"I was walking in the cemetery of Père Lachaise this afternoon and admiring the statues when I saw a man that I met at the party for Monsieur and Madame Verdi. It was Monsieur Raoul de Chagny. I rode with him from the cemetery to your home."

At the sound of that name, both Manette and Jean's eyes brightened, and they leaned a little closer to her.

"I forgot to mention it to you," Jean said. "He was at the dinner party that the Verdis gave last week, and he asked about you."

"Yes," Manette added.

Sitting back in his chair, he stared at the fire for a moment, and then turned to his companions.

"He seems like a fine enough fellow. He appears to have recovered from last year's disaster."

"Disaster?" Jade queried.

"Yes. Didn't you know? It was he, the Vicomte de Chagny, who married the lead singer, Christine Daae after she left the Opéra Populaire in '73. She was the one that the mad man kidnapped from the stage during the last performance at the opera house, the night the fire was set."

The room had become quite cold, and Jade's stomach suddenly felt queasy as she stared at Jean.

_Erik. The woman that he's in love with was named Christine Daae. She is now the wife of Raoul de Chagny, and is about to have a child._

Quickly she assessed the time between the present date and March 1873._ The child inside of her can't be Erik's_. Knowing that helped calm her rebellious stomach.

The remainder of the evening was uneventful as Jean talked about the staff's excitement over the new music director. He would be arriving tomorrow. Then they listened intently to Jade's story about Pierre's illness and her days with his family.

They only mentioned Gillian once, and when Jade remained silent, the couple gingerly moved the conversation to another topic.

On the ride back to the opera house, Jade thought of Monsieur and Madame de Chagny, Erik, and the card in the pocket of her cloak. Suddenly, she realized it would be foolish to keep it. As the carriage turned a corner, and approached the opera house, she ripped it into tiny pieces, and tossed it into the street.

Her chilly bedroom seemed particularly cold that night. As she laid out her robe, she recalled the warm bath and lovely chamber that she'd slept in last night. Sighing deeply, she looked at the bare wall where there once had hung a golden tapestry with red birds and deer. Gillian had adored it.

_Tomorrow I'll go to the prop department and borrow something that will brighten this room._

Opening the armoire, she took out the soft, camel colored cloak and the violet scarf. After draping them over the bed, she slipped under the covers, and huddled next to the cold sheets.

In the past three days the scope of her life had changed, ushering in new limits and possibilities. Tomorrow loomed ahead.

She was unsure how to proceed. However, Jade now knew that there were two things that she needed to do. First, she must find a way to see Gillian again, and secondly, she must meet the Vicomtess de Chagny.

_She is the key to understanding the ghost that haunts him. Once we meet, it will become clearer to me what my purpose is in being here._

The sheets had lost their chill, and it was getting late. Rolling onto her side, she thought of Erik's handsome features and expressive eyes. A warm hand stroking her hair would have felt good at that moment.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, as she drifted off.


	37. Chapter 37 Hope

**A/N: the character Sasha is taken from Susan Kay's novel Phantom  
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** Chapter 37 Hope**

Pierre scowled as he ran his fingers along the branch of the fruit tree. The limb would have to go. If he were lucky, the surgery would save the tree. Pulling out a saw, he vigorously cut it off. Then with a dark face, he searched for more damage. By the time he was through, half a dozen branches lay on the pile.

Michel walked down the path towards the dull thump of wood hitting the ground. Freezing his face into a noncommittal mask, he angled down the hill as he watched his uncle below. The man was roughly shoving the handcart onto the path and growling to himself.

_He's in a foul mood. _The last time he'd seen Pierre this angry was the year before when he and Pierre were at the local fair. On their way to the refreshment tent for a glass of wine, they'd chanced upon a man and a woman behind one of the tents. The man was hitting her with his fist. In a flash, Pierre had knocked the man off his feet, and glared at him as he lay sprawled out on the ground. It had taken two bottles of wine to wipe the scowl from Pierre's face. Then on their way home, his uncle's anger had returned. "It won't do any good," Pierre had muttered as he frowned at the cart horse's backside. "He'll be beating her again as soon as his head clears."

Once again, his uncle was upset about a woman. Only now, Michel knew her name.

He fell in alongside of Pierre who was hauling branches down the path. "Will you be going to Joseph and Marie's for supper tonight?" he asked.

Pierre nodded curtly, and then ignored Michel. He'd been avoiding his family since returning from Paris on Saturday. It was obvious to everyone that something was wrong, and they had a good idea what it was. Claire had been the first to voice their concerns.

"Don't trouble him with questions. Give him a chance to clear his mind," she'd firmly stated on Sunday morning before their family breakfast.

At the time, Michel had dodged her pointed gaze. Since his uncle's return, he'd been eaten up with curiosity as to why Jade had refused Pierre's proposal.

Now he wanted to know who his uncle's rival was. Who was the man that Pierre thought of as he butchered his orchard?

They walked along the path in silence. As Michel stared down at the others large fists, he slowly smiled. Whoever the man was, he wanted to be there when Pierre knocked him to the ground.

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That evening, it rained heavily. The cold damp beaded up on Jade's woolen cloak as she laid it aside. Donning a heavy tunic, she moved to the feed buckets. At her urging, Paul Rascon had left the stable for home, and she was finishing their nightly chores.

Breaking bales of hay into pieces, she carried the sections to the stalls, and tossed them to the eager horses. When finished, she leaned on the stall door, and watched the Arabian stallion. His coat was covered in dust from the bedding at his feet. He made short work of the hay, and then with a soft nicker, shoved his head over the half door. Nosing her hand, he searched for the lump of sugar that she always brought him.

Jade smiled as his soft lips grazed her knuckles, and she offered him the treat. Stepping into the stall, she curried his back and hummed a tune. As she worked, the stallion occasionally reached around and playfully grabbed at her sleeve. In turn, she batted his nose. The horse had gotten attached to her, and sometimes acted more like a pet than an unruly stallion. The other day when she'd taken him out to the large exercise pen to stretch his legs, he'd followed behind with his warm breath tickling her shoulder.

Standing back, she admired his shining coat, and wondered if the horse's intense affection was typical for his breed. When she'd worked at M. Solari's stable, he'd told her wonderful horse stories. One was about the Bedouins of the African desert who cherished their Arabian horses, and regarded them as their family. They would bring them into their tents at night where their children played at their feet.

"Have you ever seen the desert, my friend?" Jade asked as she gently tugged his mane. She could see his chocolate coat flashing under the hot sun against a bare wasteland of pale sand.

Someday, she would enter the stable, and he would be gone—sold to recoup the cost of feeding him. If he were lucky, someone who wanted a purebred from a fine line would take a fancy to him. Then he could spend his days chasing broad-mares, and creating a new bloodline.

_God help him if some foolish man buys him to pull a cart!_ She grimaced. The stallion would erupt into a savage mood when anyone but Rascon or she approached him.

She was in the middle of cleaning his hooves when a soft sound came from the stall door. The stallion sounded a sharp, excited neigh, and Jade swiftly moved away from his feet. Glancing up, she saw the dark figure towering above her and reaching for the horse.

Erik stood close to the animal's head, and placed his pale hands on his well muscled neck.

Stepping back, Jade watched the interplay between these two passionate males. Erik's hands inched down the horse's neck, and followed the firm line of muscles to the chest while he gazed into the stallion's eyes. Their breathing linked them with a weighted silence as Erik continued to touch the horse.

Jade followed his hands with half closed eyes. The pale, long fingers tenderly caressed the satiny coat. When he moved to the other side of the horse, and continued his ministrations, she couldn't help but think that he meant for her to see this. Was he showing her how gentle and sensuous he would be?

The white leather mask split his face into warm flesh and frozen concentration as Erik faced the animal. Bending down, he placed his mouth next to the horse's nostrils, and blew a soft, sighing breath into them. As he did so, he fingered the stallion's long, silky neck. Jade held her breath and watched the horse's ears swivel forward in acceptance. _Erik is claiming him_! she thought as a chill ran across her arms. Fascinated, she watched him hold the horse's gaze as he slowly stepped away.

Ending the session with a firm pat on the beast's neck, Erik turned to her.

"I am afraid that riding is out of the question tonight, my dear," he stated.

Nodding, Jade finished cleaning the stallion's hooves, and then went to the adjacent stalls where she collected the empty feed buckets. Finishing, she exchanged her tunic for the cloak, and followed the silent figure out of the stable into the passages beyond.

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At the lake, the slender boat sat partially on the shore with black water sucking at its sides. When Erik pushed the craft from shore, Jade's fear returned. Exhaling forcefully, she tried to counter the panic that squeezed her chest. Each trip across was the same—acute terror as her mind fixed on the watery grave beneath them.

Groping for a distraction she stared at Erik's mouth while gulping air. As she watched, his mouth softened and his lips began to move.

The first notes were low, blending with the sound of the paddle breaking the water. Nearly a minute passed before a lilting melody emerged from the cavern. The sweetness mounted and foreign words echoed around her as if the air itself were singing.

Jade raised her eyes to Erik's. He caught her gaze, and held her. Intense warmth spread through her as her fear melted, and her tight chest eased open. She stared back, acutely aware that he'd become her protector, her priest—the man who was banishing her demon.

Before she knew it, the boat touched ground.

She followed him to the house. When they were inside, he bent over her, and lifted the cloak from her shoulders. Then he said in a softly resonating voice, "There are warm clothes laid out for you on your bed. If you wish, you may change now, my dear."

Jade strolled into the rosy-lit bedroom where tiny flames spattered light onto the grotto's walls. The warm woolens on the bed were inviting and superbly comfortable once they were on. After brushing the stable dust from her hair, she moved languidly down the hall to the kitchen. Padding across the large front room in her fleece lined slippers, she settled on the couch and gazed at Erik, who was seated at the table.

"Would you care for some music tonight?" he asked graciously, as he handed her a glass of wine.

Charmed, she nodded, and smiled up at him.

As he sat on the bench, his long, straight back abandoned its tension. Stretching out his arms, he began to play.

The melody was a continuation of the song he'd sang to her in the boat. It was a beautiful, delicate refrain with variations in intensity and rhythm. After a half hour, she began to sway.

His singing had gently pushed her own music from her mind. Now there was stillness that his music filled. Receptively, she followed it with her body.

When the music ended, Erik joined her. His cheek was slightly flushed and his eyes held an intense spark. Jade looked shyly up at him as she handed him a glass of wine.

They sipped their drinks in silence. After a few minutes, he asked, "Did you enjoy the music?"

Smiling, she replied, "Yes, Erik, very much." As she fingered her goblet, she tentatively asked, "Is it your composition?"

His hand unfurled towards the organ and he smiled slightly. "Yes, it is."

When he spoke again, it was with delicacy. "Do you think you might wish to dance to my music, Jade?"

Her eyes dropped, and she slowly put her glass down. Then straightening her shoulders, Jade looked directly into his eyes. "Dance?" she inquired with an expressionless face.

Erik stared back into her solemn eyes.

"Yes, my dear. I have seen you dance to the music that only you can hear."

Her mouth fell open, and she flushed deeply. "When?" she asked hoarsely.

Holding her gaze, he waited for her to compose herself, and then calmly answered. "I was on the roof of the opera house when I first saw you dance. I was watching a sunset when you burst through the door. I expected you would soon leave but you remained."

Silently, she stared past his shoulder at the room beyond. Then she looked down at her hands and asked, "And was there another time?"

Erik's fingers brushed her knuckles, and she quickly looked up into his gray-green eyes. He was watching her carefully. She realized that he was trying not to upset her, and her face softened a little.

"One night, I was about to leave the opera house to go for a walk, when I had an urge to visit the auditorium. There was nothing there so I waited for a minute, and then you appeared on the stage."

This time the blush only stained her cheeks.

"Is that why you chose me, Erik? Because of my dancing?" she asked softly.

He hadn't expected to see pain in her eyes, so he watched her keenly for a long moment. Taking her hand in his, he held it as he had seen his rival do a half dozen times. This was unchartered territory and he proceeded carefully.

"The first time that I saw you was when you arrived at the opera house. You were sitting on the front steps, " he said gently.

"That was you on the roof!" she interrupted.

Nodding briefly, he continued. "The next time I saw you, you were riding the white mare for the first time." He smiled slightly as she stared at him, fascinated. "I expected the horse to unseat you, but she failed."

Jade interrupted again. "Why didn't you warn me, Erik?"

His smile broadened. "And what would you have had me do, my dear? Come out into the day light and introduce myself?" he said in a poking manner.

Looking down at the small hand in his, he held it possessively a little longer, and then released it.

"Jade, when you dance, you rival the stars."

The silence grew between them as he gently probed her eyes with his.

"Erik, I'm sorry that I didn't trust you at first," she finally said.

A gleam appeared in her eyes. Reaching out, she captured his hand.

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Erik lay in his bed, and stared at the door. She was asleep by now. They had spent the rest of the evening reading and discussing books. At that time, Jade had set aside her normal reticence, and asked him questions.

He smiled as he recalled them. They were philosophical in nature, such as: did he believe that animals had souls?

Erik had simply said, "Yes" without further explanation. Then, as he watched her dark head pour over her book, he thought of his beloved Sasha, the friend of his childhood. Someday, he would tell her about how much he had adored that dog.

_But not tonight._ It was all too new, this revealing parts of each other's souls. There was enough time ahead for them to slowly let slip the bits and pieces of their lives.

When it was time for her to retire, he had walked with her to her room. And like a callow, smitten youth, he had leaned against the doorframe, and ached for her to ask him in. As he stared down into her clear eyes, he wanted to swoop her up into his arms, and kiss her as she had never been kissed before. Then he would lay claim to her heart and that delightful body that was hidden below those mounds of loose woolens.

Turning onto his back, Erik folded his arms behind his head and shut his eyes. _We are very near that moment, _he considered with a restless joy. His heart sped up a little as he thought of her only a few feet away, resting peacefully. _Just a little longer._ She would come to him willingly, and want him the way he wanted her.

_Perhaps not quite as badly,_ he thought with a wry smile. _No matter. It will be enough._

Love was harder than it had been before. To steer a course devoid of manipulation and deceit had required him to take on a new skin, a new identity. Christine's farewell had challenged him to change or die in isolation.

He had risen to the challenge.

In return for giving up his brittle overconfidence, something sweeter and more resilient had taken residence in his heart: hope.

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It was Wednesday evening, and Jade had finished her work for the day. Shutting the office door, she walked quickly to the café. After her meal, she left her friends and went to her room where she retrieved the cashmere cloak. By the time she arrived at the storage room, it was nearly seven o'clock. She lit the lantern, sat upon a crate, and waited for Erik to arrive.

When they'd left each other yesterday morning, he had told her he would come for her this evening after dinner.

Earlier that evening, when she walked from the café to the opera house, snow had begun to fall. The huge, white flakes swirled down from the sky in fluffy, silent whorls. They clumped upon her dark hair, and covered her cloak with a lacey blanket as she detoured to the Place de l'Opéra. On that cold night, people of all ages were looking up and pointing at the sky. With child-like joy, they marveled at the white drift which gathered in the indigo sky.

It was a joy to be alive.

Jade looked about the dusty room, and impatiently tapped the side of a box with her foot as she waited for Erik. The first time they'd met had been in a storeroom. She laughed as she thought of the look on his face when she'd said, "Opera Ghost, I presume." In spite of his cool demeanor, there had been a glitter in his eyes. Had it been amusement at her sarcasm? Or was he still simply recovering from the physical blow she had dealt him?

_What a strange life!_ The man she had feared had become very dear to her.

Getting up, she walked around the room, and poked into the crates to pass the time. She wished she had brought a book to read. Or better yet, to have a friend to share her feelings with. But with whom? Of her new friends, only Manette might understand. And what would she say to her? _I have met an incredible man, and by the way, he's the Opera Ghost._

She sat on the crate and waited. After an hour, she rested her head on her arms. Closing her eyes, she fell asleep.

0000

When she awoke, it was considerably later. Jade got up, and stared at the wall that was the door to the passage beyond. There was no evidence that he had come while she slept.

_Something has delayed him._

After an hour, she returned to her room. The clock on her dresser showed ten o'clock.

Slowly, she removed her clothes and dressed for bed. Then crawling under the covers, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and waited. He had come to her room later than this before.

The single candle burned low. By the time it sputtered out, she was fast asleep.

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Erik moved slowly away from the large house, and nearly slipped when he stepped on a slick spot on the street. He held his left arm close to his body, which eased the pain. His whole side was throbbing from the fall. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his head when a carriage passed by.

Once he got a few streets away, he hailed a cab. Climbing in slowly, he eased into the seat, and swung the door closed with his uninjured arm. Then he sat back, and wearily rested his head against the seat.

It had been a hellish night. Seeing Christine struggle in pain had nearly worn away his spirit. He had forced himself not to burst into the room and take her hand. That damned woman had not helped her enough! The husband had been a fool to leave her alone with that incompetent idiot until the doctor came.

He had watched in the shadows in agony until her labor was finished.

_She has survived the ordeal, _he thought with grim relief. He would check on her tomorrow. When she was past danger, Jules would be able to get additional information about her condition.

It was over, at least for now. "Until the next time," he growled to himself.

The bitterness had returned when he anxiously hovered near the tall window. His hatred and pain were alive again. He could not forgive the man for having touched her. If she had not needed a father for her newborn child, he would have slipped into the adjacent bedroom, and throttled the man as he sat by the fire.

"Damn this snow." He scowled into the storm.

The carriage arrived at the opera house, and skidded through the ankle deep snow that lay heavily on the plaza. After a sliding halt, Erik stepped out, and briefly held onto the side of the carriage until his footing was secure. Then he limped across the shimmering surface to the stark, gray building.

As he slipped into the black passage that led to his home, the silence welcomed him.


	38. Chapter 38 Secrets

**A/N: there are a couple passages in this chapter that are sexually suggestive, but not terribly explicit. **

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**Chapter 38 Secrets**

Erik slowly pulled himself out of bed, and stood in front of the mirror. His left side was a mass of bruised, aching muscles and discolored skin. Firmly, he pressed on his ribs while inhaling, and was relieved to find that nothing was broken.

After applying salve to the injured areas, he stepped into the kitchen, and prepared breakfast. As he ate his meal, he opened one of the medical books that were piled on the table. He had acquired that little esoteric collection after discovering Christine's pregnancy. The texts were in different languages, and detailed a variety of after childbirth illnesses.

Tonight he would visit Christine again.

His aching arm interrupted his studies. Frowning, he pushed against the table, and tested its strength. It would be difficult to climb to the second story balcony with an injured limb but he would manage. Last night's unexpected snowfall had disrupted his descent from the balcony when he grabbed an icy handhold. After falling, he had limped away, and cursed his bad luck.

He read for two hours, and then pushed the tomes aside. Pulling out a sheet of stationery, he stared at it thoughtfully as he recalled his missed appointment with Jade. _I will have to delay bringing her to my home for another day, _he considered as he rubbed his shoulder.

Putting pen to paper, he wrote:

**My dearest Jade,**

**I would have met you last night, but I was unexpectedly detained.**

**I will come for you on Friday. **

**Please join me for supper.**

**Erik**

Staring at the note for a moment, he then sealed it, and laid it on top of a book that he had set aside for her. As he ran his fingers over its cover, he could see the intense look in her eyes when she read. The woman devoured knowledge.

The singed odor of candle wax floated in the air. Glancing at the candelabra, he noted the sooty smoke of a poorly burning candle. Reaching out, he extinguished it. As the slivered heat nipped his fingers, Christine's sweat soaked face rose before him. Her cries of anguish still echoed in his mind.

Yesterday, Erik's hands had shaken when he held the note. **The doctor has been notified that the Comtess de Chagny is in labor**, it had read. Immediately, he had returned to his home, gathered his things, and gone to her.

As he had stood on the balcony, his muscles had tightened into hard bands while he watched the tears stream down Christine's face. Seeing her in pain had been nearly unbearable. He knew ancient, oriental techniques that would dull the pain, and speed delivery. But he had not dared to reveal himself unless her life was in jeopardy.

It was the custom for a husband to leave his wife as she bore their child. No matter if she died from the effort. The husband would be brought in afterwards to say farewell to her corpse.

"Monsieur Vicomte de Chagny," he spat out as he walked to the organ. _If you can not care for your wife in her need, then you have no business putting your hands on her!_

Sitting down in front of the great instrument, he exhaled slowly as he felt the throbbing in his side.

He _had _to go to her tonight. Only when he was certain that she was safe would he be able to rest peacefully.

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The next day, Jade stood in the management offices, and tidied her desk. She had been extremely busy that week as she handled orders for the new opera. Several feet away sat Mme. Truffaut in her straight back chair, as she efficiently handled paper work. Jade glanced at the office matriarch, who looked like a cross between a satisfied cat and a steely bird of prey. The only office duty that remained was for Jade to go to the auditorium, and speak with M. Bellet. Then she'd be free to go to the stables and exercise the horses.

Dreamily she shuffled the paperwork as she thought of her upcoming visit with Erik. Would he play for her again? Or would there be another discussion tonight? She flushed a little as she thought of his intense eyes when he had answered her queries. Accustomed to keeping her mouth shut, it was exhilarating to have an extended conversation with him. The only other person she had ever had lengthy, intellectual discussions with had been Brother Gregory from the monastery.

_Dear Brother Gregory. _He had been a gentle instructor, who had encouraged her to speak her mind. What a joy their debates had been! How different from the stifling, boring classes in the abbey.

Grabbing her cloak, she headed for the stage. There was a piece of business she had to finish with M. Bellet. Yesterday she had gone to his home, and supervised deliveries of goods. All had gone well until a large bureau was brought in that had been damaged during the delivery. Jade had argued with the merchant about its condition, and finally demanded that he replace the item. She needed to get M. Bellet's instructions as to what would be an acceptable substitute.

As she walked towards the stage, she listened to the singing coming from the theater. Her eyes brightened as she thought of the new opera. Jean had told her that it wouldn't be as an elaborate production as Aida since it only had two acts. But he had said that it would be quite different than the previous one.

"Come to at least one rehearsal," he had said. "It has a completely different mood than a grand opera. I want you to tell me what you think of my designs!"

Smiling, Jade turned down the last corridor as she thought of Jean. He was a fine artist. She would be delighted with anything he created.

The singing stopped, and a male voice shouted out orders. Arriving at the back stage area, she moved closer to the rehearsing singers, and peered over the shoulders of some of the cast. Two of the principals were moving across the stage under the instructions of the music director.

When the singers exited, she strolled across the expanse, and scanned the front rows of the auditorium. She had never met M. Bellet. In the last week, he had been in and out of the office several times while she was dealing with deliveries. However, she had a detailed description of him from Mme. Truffaut.

Glancing about, she found the lone man who was sitting in the empty auditorium.

As her gaze fixed on his face, Jade froze. Suddenly, her knees gave out, and her head hit the floor as she lost consciousness.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Jean had been working on the set when he heard the commotion. He walked up to the group huddled on the stage, and overheard their conversation.

"Who is she?" asked one man.

"She's the one who works in the offices, and the stable," replied another. You've seen her, haven't you? She rides the horses astride, and wears breeches."

"You mean the stable whore?" sneered a tall man.

At the word 'stable', Jean rushed forward, and roughly pushed the tall man aside. Bending over Jade, he put his hand to her forehead, and looked keenly at her. Then he turned to one of the men, and barked out, "She's fainted. Help me get her off the stage."

They carried her to a nearby empty room with a divan where they laid her down.

Rubbing her hands vigorously, Jean sat beside her until her eyelids fluttered open.

Jade stared blankly at the ceiling for a minute before she turned her eyes to him.

"What happened?" she asked groggily.

"You fainted," Jean replied softly as he continued to hold her hand.

"No, don't get up yet," he said, as he put weight on her shoulders to prevent her from rising. She immediately settled back, and lay listlessly for several minutes. Then slowly, he helped her sit up.

Staring past him, she finally shook her head to clear it, and then carefully rose to her feet.

Jean held her arm, and helped her to her room. Once there, he made sure that she laid down. "I'll check on you before supper," he said as he turned to leave.

"No, Jean. That won't be necessary. I'm not going to supper tonight."

Spinning on his heel, he stared hard at her. "Maybe the reason that you fainted is that you skip too many meals," he said sternly.

She gave him a weary look and replied, "I'll be eating tonight. I've arranged to dine with a friend."

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After Jean left, she rested for a half hour, and changed into her stable clothes. With a taut stride, Jade walked through the back passages to the stable. Her nerves were on edge. A good ride would soothe her. As she continued through the dim corridor, she accidentally kicked a soft object, which let out a high-pitched squeak. After jumping a foot into the air, she landed on her feet, and then wiped the sweat off her brow. The rat was nowhere in sight.

The chestnut gelding looked calmly at her as she entered his stall. Gently she slipped the bridle on, and led him outside. Wednesday night's snow had melted but it could easily snow again. The dull, gray sky had drained the color from the landscape, and left an empty shell behind.

Moving into a relaxed trot, the chestnut carried her down the path and away from the opera house. The comfortable rhythm of the horse helped scale back her tension. After a mile, she allowed her mind to wander back to the auditorium.

The music director, M. Francois Bellet, bore a remarkable resemblance to Jean-Luc._ He could be his twin!_ she mulled with astonishment.

"Older, yes," she muttered to herself. Broader in the shoulders, a few inches taller, but the face…

Suddenly, the path ahead began to fade. Pulling up the horse, she slipped off, and sank to the ground. Taking deep breaths, she fought off the hazy cloud that threatened to overwhelm her.

When her senses cleared, she stretched out on the damp lawn and meditated. _How is it possible?_ she thought nervously. Jean-Luc was an only child like herself. And even if there had been a cousin that strongly resembled him, that man wouldn't be a well to do music director.

"He's gone," she said hollowly to the horse that was grazing. Jean-Luc had left her a long time ago.

_It's a fluke, _she thought. _It's nothing more than a strange coincidence._

But her heart told her otherwise. _Not by chance_, it said to her. _A sign, _it rumbled.

_A sign of what?_ she pondered.

0000

Later in her room, she sat by the wall mirror as she dozed. There was a loud crash against the door, which abruptly woke her. Laughter followed, and the voices trailed away down the hall.

Sighing, Jade got up and slipped her skirt on. Her earlier agitation had settled into a mildly depressed mood. If she'd had her way, she would have stayed in her room tonight, alone. The whole experience of seeing a Jean-Luc twin had unnerved her, and she needed time to recover.

Placing her cloak around her shoulders, she turned off the gaslight, and walked in the direction of the storeroom.

_He didn't come for me Wednesday night like he said he would, _she mulled._ Why don't I bow out tonight? We could do this at another time._

But when she had last seen him, Erik had had a tender, excited look in his eyes. He was looking forward to seeing her again, and she didn't have the heart to disappoint him.

The storeroom was empty, so she lit the lantern and waited. Nothing had changed since her last time there. It was the same old, dusty room full of discards. _A perfect place for a secret passage, _she mused. But then, the opera house was probably riddled with doors that led to passages. Perhaps tonight she could ask him how it was that he knew of these places. Had he had a hand in designing them?

There was a faint, grating sound, and then Erik stood before her.

She studied him as he silently looked down at her. Something was off tonight, but she had no idea what. As she followed him into the passages, she watched the swaying of his cape, and waited for a clue. His normally faultless posture and smooth movements were slightly different.

Once in the hidden passage, he bound her eyes with a black, silk scarf, and then lifted her into his arms. Instead of holding his left arm around her back as he usually did, he shifted her around, and used his left arm to support her knees. Then they proceeded down the passageway.

When they were inside his home, she gave him her cloak, then keenly watched him as he walked away. As he returned, she took in a deep breath, as she gathered her courage.

"Erik, what has happened to you?" she queried.

He paused, and stared down at her with an inscrutable look.

Jade stepped closer, and tentatively put her hand on his left shoulder. "Are you in pain?" she asked quietly.

Shrugging, he moved away and her hand fell off. He went to the kitchen, and returned with wine and glasses. As he offered her the wine, she looked steadily into his eyes. He silently held her gaze as he sat next to her on the couch.

"It is nothing, Jade," he murmured, and turned to his wine.

They sipped the wine for a few minutes, and then she began again.

"If you are injured, Erik, I might be able to help you. Please let me try," she said. Reaching over, she placed her hand on his forearm, and looked intently into his eyes.

Erik stared back at her, fascinated by her relentless concern. Then the expression drained from his face as he coolly withdrew. He removed his coat and waistcoat, and turned to her.

The elegant, charming man that she had come to know in her last two visits vanished. In front of her was an unknown force surrounded by murky waters. She said a little prayer to steady her nerves. Then Jade grasped his shirt, and slowly lifted it.

Discolored skin met her gaze. Raising the shirt further, she examined the damage. She looked into his smoldering eyes, and asked calmly, "Would you please remove your shirt?"

He stared at her for a long moment, and then took it off.

His chest was smooth, hairless, and well muscled. In the candlelight, his pale skin had a soft sheen. A multicolored bruise covered his far left side and arm, and extended below the pants line. _It probably goes into the hip and leg area as well, _she reasoned.

Suddenly, Jade got to her feet, and quickly left the room. Moments later, she returned with her arms full of bed linens, which she spread onto the divan. Turning to her bare-chested companion, she said, "Please come over here, and lie down."

Erik rose, and slowly walked towards her. Watching the smooth movement of his muscles, Jade was reminded of the grace of a stallion. A sigh of appreciation escaped her. She had seen half naked men before in the fields. Young, beautiful men picking grapes, letting the sun burnish their skin. When she and Jean-Luc would swim, he had always removed his shirt, and she had often admired his fine physique.

But somehow, seeing Erik exposed was different than with the others. She had formed an image in her mind of an untouchable, fiery spirit: the consummate master. To see him as a flesh and blood man was strange. A slight buzzing began in her ears. For a brief moment, she wondered if this might be a dream.

"Please lie on your stomach," she said firmly.

He lay with his head to the side, and his mask pressed against the sheet.

Jade sat beside him on the divan, and looked at his broad back and narrow waist. Erik had a beautiful body. In that first moment, she felt a brief, trembling hesitation to touch him. Simply sitting that close to him provoked a thrilling mix of uneasiness and awe. Still, he needed her.

Slowly, she reached down, and rested her hands on his shoulders.

His skin was warm, and silky, which was surprising. After looking at his sculpted muscles, she had crazily assumed that they would have the cool rigidity of a Greek statue. Brushing her notions aside, she focused on her task. Her long fingers moved confidently across his unbruised skin as she searched for tight muscles. She had often done this with the horses when they were injured, but only once before with a man. Smiling slightly, she remembered Brother Gregory's soft flesh as he had instructed her on how to treat muscle spasms.

There were tiny valleys between Erik's muscles. His back was a landscape of dips and curves. After a few moments, she became lost in the terrain, and forgot where she was. It was good to touch another's flesh. Jade rested her hands on his shoulders, and followed their rise and fall as she coordinated her breathing with his. Once they were synchronized, she would have a better sense of what he needed.

Gently she probed, and pressed the bands of tendons and ligaments. Gradually, the muscles gave way under her insistent hands. When they were sufficiently relaxed, she ran her fingers sensuously across his skin in long sweeping movements, to call the healing forces of the body to the area.

It was at that point that her ministrations faltered. The warm skin began to tingle and pulse. Then a distinct vibrating sensation leapt from his body to her hands, and shot up her arms. Swiftly she pulled her hands back, and stared at her trembling fingers. Her heart picked up its pace as she dumbly gazed at the man beneath her.

Quickly pulling the blanket from the chair, she spread it across him. Then she stepped backwards until the couch blocked her progress.

Pushing on his forearms, Erik slowly rose. The blanket fell aside, and exposed his chest. She wanted to look away, but couldn't. Instead, she stared at his figure as she felt a stirring in her lower abdomen. A slow, hot tightening had begun in the area surrounding her vagina, and a quivering energy was traveling from there to her throat.

_What have I done?_ she thought as her pulse began to pound. In an effort to help him, she had violated a critical boundary.

He rose, and slowly walked towards her with his chin held high. She followed the small,

sleek movements of his hips, which pulled her eyes to the area of his crotch.

It looked larger than before. There was a firm bulge there.

Swallowing hard, Jade braced herself against the couch. Her knees had suddenly become rubbery. _Don't you dare fail me! _she wanted to hiss at them. If she were to fall to the floor at this moment, he would take her into his arms and then…

Erik loomed over her. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, and noticed that he was breathing faster than a minute ago. Yet his face was calm, and unreadable.

Slowly, he reached towards her, and then past her as he grasped the shirt that was lying across the back of the couch.

Carelessly he put it back on. She watched his arms stretch above his head as his taut belly tightened further. Then he turned from her, and strolled to the kitchen.

0000

Erik served them a fine supper of savory stew, and more of the excellent wine that he had an abundance of. The massage seemed to have done him some good. She noticed that his left shoulder had regained its fluid movement, and his posture was back to normal. But there was an additional element that had not been there before, a sort of cat like, predatory air about him. His lingering eyes were more penetrating than usual.

When they were done with their meal, they retired to the couch. Jade had finished the first book by Voltaire, and was now reading another work of his, Candide.

She secretly glanced in his direction a number of times. She still wanted to know what had happened to him. His injuries appeared to be the result of a fall. What had he been up to?

Putting his book down, Erik turned to her. With a raised eyebrow he queried, "Did you have something that you wished to ask me, my dear?"

Caught, she blushed, and then asked, "How did you come to have those injuries?"

Distantly, he replied, "I was visiting a friend. When I left the house, I slipped and fell to the ground."

Jade looked at him in disbelief. He would have had to fall off a balcony to have had that much bruising.

"You doubt me?" Erik asked calmly.

Quickly, she retreated to her book.

A moment later, Erik said, "Fair is fair, my dear. Now I have a question for you."

Turning to him, she waited with a somber expression.

"You have an unusual first name. How is it that you came by it?" he asked smoothly.

The tension left her face, and a distant look entered her eyes. He could almost see rolling hills and vineyards reflected in their depths.

"My mother gave me that name when I was two years old. My christened name is Catherine Therese Bouta. But she told me that she had never felt the name truly suited me. So one day, when I was in her arms, it came to her that my eyes matched the color of those gems. So, she named me after them. And that's what she called me from then on."

They were silent for a few moments. Then, Erik returned to his book.

"Your eyes are the color of the jade that comes from the tropics," he said simply. "It suits you," he added as he gazed at the text.

Silently, she stared at him for a minute, and then slowly returned to her reading.

0000

Jade turned restlessly in her sleep. The dream had returned: the one in which they were rowing across the lake. Only there was sun, and the water was clear, not dark. Jean-Luc was standing in the boat, and smiling at her as he threatened to jump into the lake. "Tell me you will run away with me next year," he teased, "or I'll jump and you'll never see me again."

Jokingly, Jade rocked the boat a little, and laughed when he jumped feet first into the water. Then she leaned over the boat, and watched as he sank to the bottom with his eyes open, and staring up at her. When he didn't swim out, she called his name, and continued to call to him with increasing volume until the last call was a scream.

She woke up as she screamed. Something was holding her, and binding her arms. Frantically she tried to work them free as she struggled to catch her breath. Then something moved across her head and her cheek, a gentle, rhythmic motion of a hand against her face and hair.

"Be still. You are safe. You have had a bad dream," the voice said to her several times.

Opening her eyes, she saw Erik's face next to hers. Emptying her lungs with a long sigh, she pressed closer to him.

They laid there together as he softly stroked her hair.

When she no longer felt afraid, she pulled away from him, and looked into his eyes.

"I'm fine now, Erik, " she said quietly. "It was only a dream. Thank you. You can go now."

Erik didn't move but continued to gaze into her eyes. Then finally, he spoke.

"My dear Jade, you have called out that name before." Then reaching out, and gathering her to him, he whispered into her hair, "Who is Jean-Luc?"

Jade stiffened in his arms, and then slowly pulled away.

**

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**A/N: dear readers, as I finish a chapter, sometimes it feels necessary to leave a certain amount of tension at the end of it so that there will be momentum for the next. Since serial writing doesn't allow you to skip ahead, all I can say is that I'll keep trying to get a chapter to you in a reasonable length of time so that the occasional cliffhanger isn't too annoying.**

**Thanks again to all of you who leave reviews. **


	39. Chapter 39 JeanLuc

**Chapter 39 Jean-Luc**

As she hid behind the velvet curtain, Jade peered around its edge, and watched the man in the auditorium below. The sandy haired, music director was sitting still in his seat with his eyes fixed on the stage.

Mercilessly, he had rehearsed the singers several hours past their lunchtime.

"Again," he said in a resonant voice.

Jade's eyes darted to the performers, and she noted the tension in their faces. With that quick, firm tone, he had successfully beaten back their weary impatience.

The singers moved back into their previous positions, and Jade's gaze returned to the man. His masterful air reminded her of someone.

_Erik, _she thought, as she released the curtain. The heavy drapery moved soundlessly into place, and shielded her from the theater below.

She glanced about the opulent opera box, which was situated in the second tier of the auditorium. She had no business being there in her stable clothes, or even in her Sunday best. The only box she would be able to visit without feeling out of place was box five.

_His domain, _she mused.

Quietly, she left the box, and crept through the hall. She was ashamed of sneaking about and spying, and almost wished she would get caught.

Minutes later, she was back in the stable, and sitting on a crate as she deftly repaired a broken harness. The quick, hard thrusts of needle to leather caused her to softly grunt as she wrestled with the task. She struggled to maintain her focus and avoid a nasty jab from the needle. Erik's intense gaze from last night was on her mind. In response to his tender query, she had pulled away from him. The lord of the opera house, her benefactor and friend, had asked her for something that she couldn't give.

Jade tossed the harness aside, and impatiently pawed through the pile of aged leather in search of another task. Keeping busy helped suppress her careening feelings.

Paul Rascon stepped around the corner, and stared at her for a moment. Glancing up at him, she gave him a brusque nod, and then returned to her labor.

"The white mare has been irritable lately. She could use some exercise," he said and then left.

Once they were inside the pen, she carefully snapped the whip over the horse's head, which set the mare into a trot. She gazed at the fluid, graceful movements of those slender, white legs, whose silvery hooves tapped the ground. Around the horse went, and around as she turned and followed the monotonous oval. The calls of overhead birds joined with the light clipping sound of the horse, to free Jade's mind from her worries. Then the fragmented thoughts coalesced as Jean-Luc's face advanced, and pushed aside the brief peace.

The man sitting in the auditorium was the spirit of Jean-Luc come back to haunt her. _Why_? She had kept him in her heart all these years, as she had vowed. She had remained faithful to him. In that way, she had kept him alive.

_Faithful? _a nagging thought challenged. _If you are so faithful, what were you doing with Erik last night?_

Jade frowned as she thought of him. He had been prying her heart open since the first day they met. Bit by bit, he had crept closer to her, using his sly, delicious ways, and beauty to break down her defenses. The tight, little sanctuary that housed her lost love was crumbling. And when it was gone, Jean-Luc would disappear.

_That is why Jean-Luc is haunting you, _the voice whispered ruthlessly.

_No! _she wanted to cry out. She couldn't lose him. He was the only one who had ever loved her.

A sharp neigh pulled Jade's attention back to the pen. Rascon had saddled the black stallion, and was taking him out of the stable. She watched as the large horse danced down the path with Rascon's iron fist holding him in check. Gathering up the line, she led the mare to her stall.

Later, back in her room, she put away her stable clothes, and stared at her reflection.

No one had ever asked her before about Jean-Luc. Only her mother had had an inkling of how much he had meant to her. And perhaps M. Soleri had known as well. But she had kept her feelings hidden.

And now Erik wanted to know.

Erik wasn't someone you refused. He would find a way to get what he wanted out of her. And once he had it, what would he do?

With a knit brow, she turned from the mirror. The angst that had ridden her all day had intensified. Her feelings swung between anxiety and melancholy. Pacing the room, she thought of the hurt in Erik's eyes last night. Why did he want to know about Jean-Luc?

Opening the wardrobe, she removed the cashmere cloak, and laid it across her shoulders. Absent mindedly, she stroked its soft folds as she tried to calm down.

When Erik had held her last night, she had felt protected, desired. As she buried her face into his shirt, for a few moments, he became her whole world.

Wavering between her feelings for Jean-Luc and Erik she twisted the cashmere fabric in her hands, and moved aimlessly around the room.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on her door. Quickly, she opened it.

"Pierre!" she cried in surprise. It was Saturday evening, and he wasn't due for market until next Friday.

"Hello Jade," he replied, as he casually leaned on the door frame. The hall's gaslight backlit his curly brown hair as he loomed over her. "May I come in?"

It was the first time that he had been in her room since her illness weeks ago. She opened the door wide to the tall man, and blinked with a touch of confusion as he strolled inside.

Seated at the table, Pierre lit a candle. His large hands momentarily cradled the pale cylinder of wax until the tiny flame emerged.

"Have you had supper yet?" he asked lightly as she walked to him. She shook her head 'no'.

He gave her a warm smile, and comfortably stretched out his legs. "I'll be staying here for the night, and I haven't dined either. Will you join me?"

0000

The restaurant was finer than the others they had dined at. Jade's mouth watered, as she read the menu: consommé a la Delinae, crepinettes de lapereaux au truffles, carpe du Rhin a la Chambord, escaloppes de foies gras Toulouse, glaces… She hadn't eaten all day, and was suddenly very hungry. But the prices were exorbitantly high. Studying the menu, she tried to decide which item she could afford.

Looking up at Pierre, her heart warmed when she saw his bright smile. He was in good humor. It was as if last week's marriage proposal had never happened.

As he looked over his menu, he said, "I spoke with Jean and Manette today, and they told me that Tuesday is your birthday. Since I can't be here for it, I was hoping that we could celebrate tonight," he said cheerfully. "Please allow me to buy you supper."

During the first few courses, they chatted about his family. Marie's gown for the Christmas season had been finished, and her fiancée would be joining her in another three weeks. Plans for his sister's upcoming wedding were in full swing.

"Fiancée? " Jade said with surprise. That was important news he'd neglected to tell her.

"Yes," Pierre replied casually. "They were engaged last week. The wedding will be in the spring. You'll be getting an invitation from her at the beginning of the year."

As Jade speared a truffle, she recalled the morning breakfasts at Claire's table. The wedding would be a joyous event for the close-knit family. The thought of attending it made her feel uneasy. Did his family know about Pierre's proposal to her, and if so, what did they think of her not accepting him?

"Michel sends you his love," Pierre said quietly. She gave him a startled look. He was watching her closely, and had successfully read her mind.

After their sumptuous meal, they walked to the Jardin des Tulleries. It was a cold night, but they ignored the chill and admired the greenery. They paused by the ruins of the Emperor's Palace that had been destroyed during the revolt of the Paris Commune in 1871. Under the full moon, the wreckage shone eerily like the broken teeth of a giant specter. As they talked, Pierre made light conversation that centered on the opera house. How had her week been? Had she spent much time with the horses? Was there any word about Gillian?

He gently pressed her for more information about the child, and she added details that she hadn't told him in her letter. As he listened attentively, he asked additional questions. By the time they headed back to the opera house, she had revealed all of her feelings of sadness and longing for the little girl. The only thing that she held back was Erik's gift of the portrait.

When they reached the staff quarters, they were warmly engaged in each other's company. And, since Jade didn't have to work the next day, Pierre invited her to his room to share a bottle of wine.

He sat on the bed, and she sat in an overstuffed chair close to him. After the second glass of wine, the conversation flowed freely.

When she mentioned the music director, Pierre gave her a keen look. Then he rose, and opened a second bottle of wine, as Jade continued to talk.

Normally, she would have stopped drinking after the second glass. But tonight she was celebrating. Pierre had returned, and had apparently forgiven her. Jade was deeply grateful that their friendship had survived. Since Erik hadn't mentioned coming for her tonight, she could drink as much as she wished. Her room was an easy distance, five doors down the hall.

When she was on her fourth glass of wine, she was oblivious to the fact that Pierre was barely sipping his own.

He casually guided the topic back to the new music director by asking if she had met him yet. Jade was silent for a long moment. Then she turned her head aside. After a minute, she faced him, and stared gloomily up at him with tears rimming her eyes.

"Jade," he said slowly. "What's the matter?"

Opening her mouth to speak, she thought better of it, and lowered her head. Tightly squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to stifle the tears. To her horror, she began to sob.

Gently, Pierre lifted her out of the chair, and placed her on the bed beside him. Holding her, he patted her back as she cried into his chest.

When she finished, he tipped her face up to his. "Why are you so unhappy?" he asked quietly.

_The time has come, _she pondered. In spite of the haze of alcohol, and her suddenly volatile emotions, she knew what she must do.

"Pierre," she said as she looked into his concerned eyes. "I would like to tell you about someone who was once very dear to me."

Then Jade began her tale.

"I told you how I grew up in the Province of Burgundy, and that my father was a wine merchant. Not too far from my home was a horse farm owned by a M. Soleri. When I was a child, I use to walk to his fields, and watch his horses."

"He was always kind to me. He had no children, and I think he liked me because he was a little lonely. He often invited me to come visit him on his farm. One day, my mother said 'yes', so I went."

"It was a wonderful place. I was eleven when I first went there. He asked me if I had ever ridden before, and when I said 'no', he placed me on top of a very large horse. Then he led us out to a pen, and gave me my first lesson."

Her face lit up, and Pierre suppressed a sigh. There was something particularly pleasing about her face as the fleeting joy flashed across it.

"I returned as often as I could. Sometimes I would go during the day, and at other times, I would go secretly at night. Then I would ride in his fields under the moonlight."

Jade's eyes shone with the memories.

"He said I was a natural horsewoman."

Pausing for a moment, she looked intently into his eyes.

"I met Jean-Luc the third time that I was there. He lived on another farm, and occasionally worked for M. Soleri. He was two years older than me, but he was very kind. Sometimes we would talk, and after a couple months, we became friends. He was the first friend that I ever had."

"I never told my parents about him, because they wouldn't have approved. Sometimes I would slip out at night, and we'd meet by the lake and swim. By the time I was fourteen, I was completely in love with him."

Lifting the glass of wine, she took a sip, and a distant dreamy look entered her eyes.

"We were always chaste with each other, although, towards the end, it was harder for him. He was eighteen by then. He had formed a plan, in which we were to run away when I turned seventeen. Then we would marry, and maybe later return to the village where he could work for M. Solari."

Suddenly, she grasped the glass of wine, and quickly drained it. Then she looked fiercely at Pierre.

"If I had only said yes, he would be with me today. He wouldn't have stood up in the boat, and he wouldn't have jumped into the lake!" Her flashing eyes suddenly dulled, and she lowered her gaze. " He wouldn't have drowned. It's my fault," she trailed off flatly.

Bending over, she wrapped her arms around her chest. The tears came fast, and the sorrow rolled out of her in great, gasping sobs.

Pierre hugged her tightly, and stretched out on the bed with her. She lay in his arms, and shook from the force of her crying. Eventually, only a pathetic staccato of hiccoughs came from her chest. Then she lay there quietly with her hands clasping his shirt.

"Do you feel better now?" Pierre asked softly as he stroked her cheek. She nodded "yes" and settled in closer to him.

"Can you tell me what brought this all on?' he asked slowly.

With her mind fogged from wine and tears, her normal caution slipped. "The other night, my benefactor asked me who Jean-Luc was. He said that I had said his name when I was sleeping."

_Sleeping? _Pierre frowned. Then he remembered that the man had taken care of her when she had the pneumonia, and he reasoned that she might have called out the name while she was ill.

"Did you tell him what you told me?' he asked curiously. After a moment of thought, he decided that it was unlikely. Her revelation had been raw and tumultuous with the stamp of a first time confession on it.

"No," she replied quietly.

She pulled away a little, and looked seriously into his eyes.

"I made a promise to Jean-Luc when he died, that I would always love him. That no one else would replace him," she said.

A flash of comprehension came to Pierre, and his renewed hope vanished.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Go on," he said sadly.

Sensing his disappointment, she entwined her fingers with his before she continued.

"I let him die, Pierre," she said quietly. "Jean-Luc jumped into the lake, and I watched as he looked up at me, and sank to the bottom. I didn't save him," she ended mournfully.

Jade stared at their intertwined fingers, and allowed herself to finally feel the full weight of her guilt.

"Look at me Jade," Pierre said suddenly with a stern tone.

Slowly, she met his dark brown eyes. The normal gentleness had vanished, replaced by a bright determination.

"Why didn't you go in after him?" he asked firmly.

Her eyes clouded and she replied absently, as if in a trance. "I was in a dress that mother had made me wear that day. I was wearing a corset, and I knew it would keep me from swimming to him. I tried to get out of it but I couldn't reach the stays. Then I tried to tear it off but I wasn't strong enough."

Pierre nodded slowly, and asked in a low voice, "Who brought him back to the shore?"

Jade turned away, and sunk back into the bed. Her clenched fist unfolded, and her fingers listlessly opened in a gesture of helplessness.

"There was a man on the lake who saw us, and rowed his boat to ours. He jumped in, and pulled Jean-Luc out," she said so softly that he could barely hear her.

Pulling her close to him, he held her tightly until her chilly flesh was warm again. He said slowly, "Jade, you did what you could. It was a strange happening which you did not cause, nor could you prevent. It was his time to die." He brushed her forehead with his lips. Then he eased her head back so that he could gaze into her eyes.

"You must forgive yourself, and accept God's will," he said with conviction.

Her eyes locked onto his, and a spark of understanding arose. Then she shut them, and curled back into his arms.

After a long time, she finally spoke.

"How did you do it, Pierre? How did you make room for another when Madeleine filled your heart?" she asked quietly.

After a few moments, he answered, "She never died. She was always there. I knew she was safe, and that she had a measure of happiness." Then he stroked her hair, and said softly, "I never had to keep her alive by locking her in my heart. When you arrived, it was easy to love you."

They laid there in silence for several minutes, and then Pierre spoke again. "It will be fine Jade. You made a promise a long time ago, when your loss was fresh. You won't lose Jean-Luc. He'll always be with you, even when you come to love another." Then he gently repeated, "It was his time to die. You did nothing wrong."

As she followed the rise and fall of his chest against her breast, gradually, the guilt and pain disappeared. A silvery lightness ebbed back into her soul.

Hours later, she awoke and sat up. Pierre stirred also, and reached out to her as she rose. She looked down at him lovingly, and he gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"When will you tell him that you love him?" he asked sleepily.

Smiling, she bent over, and softly kissed his forehead. Then she went to her room.

It was very chilly there, so she immediately climbed into bed without shedding her clothes. The drunken haze had lifted, replaced with an overwhelming fatigue.

As she snuggled under the covers, she remembered Erik's face the last time she had seen him. He had looked distant, untouchable, as he coolly stared down at her.

When he left her in the storeroom, she had felt empty, and a little lost.

"It will be different the next time," she said to the darkness.

Drifting towards sleep, she contemplated Erik's face. His eyes had always drawn her. But now, it was his lips that filled her mind…

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The hidden passages behind the walls of the opera house trapped many of the sounds that came from adjacent rooms. Sometimes Erik would stand at the center of the network of corridors, and listen to the voices of private conversations, or the sounds of lovemaking. The voices would float around him, and settle at his feet, sometimes thin, sometimes rich and inviting. They rubbed against each other like the squares of a quilt stitched together with cries of passion, and sounds of sorrow.

Erik was traveling towards Jade's room when he heard the crying.

He paused at the mournful sound. Whoever it was, she was crying her heart out. It had a soft wailing quality, like that of a lost child. Curious, he approached the corridor that led to the room, and realized that the sound was coming from the farmer's bedroom. A chill ran up his neck, and he swiftly approached the mirror.

The room was dimly lit with candles. On the bed was the man, and he was holding Jade next to him.

Clenching his fists, Erik watched as she pressed her face into his chest. His eyes narrowed and throat tightened. Something had traumatized her, and she had lost control.

He growled when the man gently raised her face to his.

As she told her tale, he leaned back against the wall and watched her with half closed eyes. When she spoke of the drowning of her lost love, he closed his eyes, and a long sigh escaped. He had been deeply curious about her past. _The death of one so close to her explains a great deal._ Her lingering guilt, her vow of loyalty, those traits made her that much more desirable. She had a true heart once she gave it.

Staring into that comfortable nest of a room at the two wrapped in each other's arms, a wolfish hunger arose. She had turned to his rival for comfort, and offered the man what she had denied him the night before: her trust.

It should have been him holding and comforting her.

The opera ghost stirred inside of him. The dark shadow slipped into his bones, and its fierce light penetrated his eyes. _She chose him to reveal her secret to! She pulled away from me, and then went to him._

As his anger rose, he noted the two bottles of wine, and recalled the occasional faint slur of her words. _She was drinking more than usual_, he reasoned. Was it that what finally broke down her barriers?

After they finished talking, they soon fell asleep. Erik considered entering the room, and extricating her from his rival's arms. A quick blow to the head would immobilize him, and he could carry her to his home.

Glaring at the man who so gently held her against his chest, he weighed his options. After watching them a little longer, he spun on his heel and vanished into the passageway.

He moved like a dark wind through the opera house, sometimes climbing the ropes above the stage, at other times scaling the side of the massive building. He tore through the night, as his mind burned.

His conflicting feelings flew back and forth like a trapeze act as trust and jealousy battled for domination. But the cruelest image of all was the memory of how masterfully his rival had held Jade's pain in his hands, and then released her from her self-imposed prison. He had given her a great gift that would bind her to him with love.

After two hours, Erik returned to the mirror. The candles were burned out. The light from beneath the door showed the man's long form stretched out on the bed. There was no sign of Jade.

Swiftly, he moved to her room, which was dark. He touched the latch, and opened the mirror.

Stepping into the room, he heard the soft sound of her breathing. He pulled up a chair, and sat by the side of her bed. It was nearly three in the morning, but he was wide-awake, and grateful that she had left the man to sleep alone.

Staring down at her, his feelings alternated between tenderness and pain. He could not shake the feeling that she had betrayed him by choosing to confide in another. He wanted to awaken her, and command that she come with him.

While he sat in the dark, and stared at her back, she suddenly turned on her side, and faced him. The dim light was reflected in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Erik?" she asked sleepily.

Silently, he stood up, and towered over her. Then after withdrawing into an icy coolness, he replied, "Yes, my dear. Are you ready to come with me?"


	40. Chapter 40 Betrayal

**A/N: this chapter has some sexually explicit passages.**

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** Chapter 40 Betrayal**

Erik stepped back, and leaned against the door as he watched Jade slowly rise from her bed. The room was unlit except for the thin line of light shining beneath the door. As she groped through the wardrobe, the swishing sound of fabric sliding against wood caused a tingling sensation in his hands. With a sleight of hand, he unlocked the door and slipped away.

He stood in the storeroom, and waited for her.

The darkness in her room had hidden his face, as he had intended. His turbulent emotions were rushing across it. Her morning toilette was a perfect respite that would give him time to rein in his feelings.

The light sound of footsteps heralded her arrival, and his eyes swiveled to the door. Quickly, he froze his face into an inscrutable expression as the door swung open.

Jade floated towards him with a simple grace that tugged at his heart. She tipped her chin up, and stared steadily into his eyes. There was a luminous quality to them, as if the heavens had planted a light in their depths. Her bold, innocent gaze slipped past his guarded reserve, and went straight to his heart.

_She has a sweet look of new expectations,_ he mused. He delayed their departure for a moment in order to soak in her glow.

The passage door slid open, and Jade stepped past him. Lifting her into his arms, he proceeded to the hidden lake.

As they descended the corridor, he pressed her to his chest, and restrained an urge to crush her to him. It was the kind of impulse that a young child has as it holds a newborn puppy, as if its tender beauty could be absorbed by an innocent act of violence. The odor of her hair wafted up, and teased him with smells from the world above—sweet hay, perfumes, the acrid soot of Paris, and the scent of his rival. She hadn't bathed the previous day, and each contact had left its nuance upon her. She was a kaleidoscope of fragrances, a reminder of the world he was stealing her from.

For his recitation, Erik chose a passage from Dante's work, The Inferno. He felt that the material was chillingly apropos. His current inner turmoil mirrored the images of tormented souls who eternally reached for unattainable pleasures that led them to misery and despair.

On reaching the lake, he carefully placed her into the boat, and adroitly followed. Once they were afloat, he immediately began to sing to her. It was a melody that he had often heard in Persia—a foreign song with poetic sounding words. Jade's eyes fixed upon his as he mouthed the strange tune, which banished her fear. Entranced by his voice, she gave him her utmost attention as her eyes glittered in the fragile light.

_Tonight she trusts me with her life, _he thought wryly. _Last night, she refused my inquiry about her lost love._

Once they arrived, he carried her from the lake to her bedroom, and laid her on the bed. Jade innocently stared up at him and waited. Stepping back a few steps, he said in a cool voice, "It is late, my dear. We will talk in the morning." With a flick of his cape he turned and left.

Erik shut the door, walked several steps down the hall, and then waited. Minutes later, he returned to the thick oak door, and pressed his ear against it as he listened for a signal that she was still awake. There was only silence.

She was a heavy sleeper, and slept as soundly as a child. He wondered, if he were to scoop her up while she slept, how long would it be before she became aware of his presence?

Ten minutes passed, and he reached for the doorknob. Wrapping his long fingers around its smooth, metallic surface, he twisted it until it turned.

Then he froze. Slowly, he released the knob, and backed away from the door as his mind's eye looked through it to the bed beyond. Abruptly, he returned to the front room. Staring into its recesses, he noted that everything was as he had left it earlier that evening. It had been immaculately cleaned and prepared for her visit.

The large room shimmered in waves of candlelight. His eyes rested on each object, which echoed Jade's presence. The couch, the worktable, the bookcases, the divan, all of them had her mark. To look at the couch was to see the black Spanish shawl that touched her shoulders as she rested against the green satin upholstery. The finely polished table, where they dined, held the reflection of her small hands as she passed food to him.

Erik sat at his worktable, and swept aside the papers. Leaning on his elbows, he thrust his long fingers through his hair, and meditated on his quandary. This evening, when he had seen her in his rival's arms, a devouring beast had awoken in him. Now, he yearned for her body and for the act of completion.

Last night, it had been simple. She had touched him, and they had both felt the spark. As she stood pressed against the couch, her body had given away her suppressed excitement. He had seen desire in her eyes.

But tonight, everything had changed. His confidence had been shaken as he saw her cling to that man. The trust that she gave to another should have been his. She had betrayed him.

Groaning, he pressed his hands against his skull to still his thoughts. Longing, frustration, anger, and doubt twisted inside of him.

He remembered the look she gave him less than an hour ago as they stood together in the storeroom. It had said volumes. She was welcoming him into her life as a friend.

_Friendship and nothing more,_ he thought bitterly.

He hit the table with his fist causing the inkwell to skitter to the edge. God was laughing at him again. And what a joke it was! He had changed his tactics, and had abandoned impulsiveness and madness to win her. He had remained a gentleman as he had promised. And this was his prize—her good-natured regard.

Once again, he had been thwarted in love, and assigned the secondary role of friend, and teacher.

**No!** his mind roared.

Staring down at his trembling hands, he considered their power.

Countless times Erik had watched from the shadows and the mirrors of the opera house as its denizens played their games of lovemaking. He had seen it all, and was well schooled in the art of physical love. He knew he would please a woman if he could capture her heart.

His head lifted, and he stared through the walls. It would be easy to enter her room, and lie with her. He could pull her out of her sleep with his hands and lips. She would awaken from the pleasure of his mouth suckling her breasts, and then he would guide her to greater intimacies. He had touched her before in her sleep and she had responded. Wasn't that a sign that she was ready for him? The image of her lying beneath him stiffened his erection.

_She sleeps very deeply. How long could I touch her before she realized that she was no longer in a dream?_ The thought of her moaning with pleasure as he brought her to consciousness caused his lips to open in a slow smile.

Like a starving wolf, he rose from the table, and took several steps in the direction of her room. Then he stopped.

_I can't go to her like this, _he suddenly realized. His reason was rapidly disappearing. He was at the brink of losing control. If he touched her, he would dive into her flesh and lose himself completely. And without her inviting him to her bed, he risked everything for the sake of one night of pleasure.

Shaking his head, he stepped back, and grasped the table in an effort to tame his throbbing excitement. It was the mingling of their souls that he ultimately needed. After waiting all these years for another's touch, he would settle for no less.

Striding to the organ, he flung himself down. Then he stretched out his hands, and struck the keys, causing a gut wrenching sound to burst from the sleeping instrument. The single note covered the room, and penetrated the far reaches of his home.

While he played, he thought of what had been denied him. There was Christine and her final choice. Then the angry, weary face of his mother appeared—the woman who would neither touch nor love him. A multitude of faces followed—the feminine eyes of strangers, their soft lips. An endless stream of desirable women paraded before him. All were beyond his grasp, forever dangling in front of him, and tempting his senses. Lastly, there was Jade whose elusive spirit teased him with her proximity.

The love-starved child inside of him joined the raging man, and the music that they created was a terrible thing. The furious melody punished the faces in his mind. Then it snaked out, and filled his home until it seemed that the walls themselves would bleed from it.

The world had always rejected and despised him. Now his hatred rolled out from beneath his fingers, and wiped clean his doubts. He was strong again, without hesitation or fear. And if Jade heard it and trembled from its force, then let her bolt her door! She had dallied with the Opera Ghost and would suffer the consequences.

The music purged his soul as he played into the night.

Finally, he was finished. Standing up from the organ, he held onto its solid mass as he straightened his stiff limbs. He was utterly drained. The pain and anger were gone. Once again, he was a rational man.

Rubbing his cramped fingers, he glanced in the direction of her bedroom. _She may have been frightened by the intensity of my music,_ he considered ruefully. _I will go to her and explain. _He was now calm enough to take her into his arms. They would talk.

Slowly, he walked to the hall outside of her room, and stood by her door. Carefully, he turned the knob. To his surprise, the door swung open. He had assumed that she would have bolted it against the onslaught of music. She was braver than he had expected.

Glancing at the bed, he realized that the room was empty.

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After Erik left her room, Jade sat up in bed and stared at the dresser for a moment. She had no way of knowing exactly what time it was, although the empty halls of the opera house indicated that it was still before dawn. Looking down at her clothes, she knew she should change before sleeping. But her drinking bout had left her feeling pleasantly lazy. So instead, she lay back on the bed and carelessly pulled the covers over herself.

Turning on her back, she stared up at the canopy and smiled. Erik would be at breakfast this morning, and they would have the entire day to spend together after she attended mass. Of course, he would bring her back here, and then they would talk and dine together.

She shut her eyes and thought of his cool gaze. _Something is troubling him,_ she mulled. As he had carried her to the cavern she had noticed how tightly he had held her. And in the boat, he lacked the usual solicitous concern that he offered her whenever they crossed the lake. He had looked right through her. Then there was his coolness as he left her room.

_It is late, and he probably remembers the unfortunate events of last night, _she reasoned. Erik was not a light-hearted man, and she was beginning to understand that certain emotional events cut him to the quick.

_Today will be different,_ she mused as she smiled softly. Things had changed between them. It was no longer necessary to hide her new feelings for him.

With that thought, she relaxed and fell asleep.

The sound of a roaring train jarred her awake. Startled, she leapt out of bed, and hit her head on the small table that was adjacent to it. Stunned, she lay on the floor for a few moments as she tried to get her bearings. Then groggily looking around, Jade pulled herself up and sat on the edge of the bed.

The organ music was ramming the walls and door of the room. Dumbly, she stared at the door, and wondered why he was playing with such maniacal frenzy.

Grabbing an armful of blankets, she walked to the bathroom and shut the door, where she tried to escape the music. However, the volume was only partially muted, and the disturbing melody reverberated against the room's tiles. Huddled on the bathroom floor, she waited for it to end.

The assault continued. As she tried to block it out, the melody ripped her mind and displaced her own music.

It was a horrific piece. The hatred was palpable, and it embedded itself into her body. In response, her muscles began to spasm. Her womb contracted and throbbed with a nasty feeling as if something was groping her from the inside out. Then the melody snaked through her breasts as her chest tightened, making it difficult for her to breathe.

The invasion brought back an ugly memory. Months ago, when Jade had been traveling in the provinces, she had been cornered by two men in a field. Their intentions had been clear—they had planned to rape her. They had chosen a place far from the village, so that there was no one to hear her cries. Utterly alone, she watched as they approached with their leering grins, and cold, deadly eyes. Knowing that she had only one chance, she had waited for the right moment before defending herself. Then she had lunged at the nearest man with her knife, and stabbed him in the chest. The second man had watched with astonishment as his companion bled out. A moment later, he had charged her. He hadn't expected the blow to his groin, and the subsequent slicing of his throat. Jade stared down at the two men, both who appeared to be dying, and then fled.

This assault was even more terrifying than the one before because it was coming from someone whom she trusted. As she curled into a ball on the marble floor, she again felt cornered. Only this time, she had nothing to defend herself with.

She gasped for air as she realized that it wasn't a stranger who was raping her. It was Erik.

After an interminable amount of time, the music showed no sign of abating. In desperation, she decided to leave her shelter. Jade slowly opened the door to her room and stepped out. Automatically, she put her hands over her ears to protect them from the thundering sound. At the door to the front room, she stopped, and stared out at the spectacle before her.

Erik was coiled at the organ striking the keys with an intensity that gave him the air of one possessed. In a blur, she saw his form moving up and down as he murderously pummeled the instrument.

A wave of nausea hit her as she felt the vibrations crawling under her skin like a host of squirming insects. Clenching her fists, she headed for the outside door while she pushed back that hollow, empty feeling that signaled an oncoming fainting spell. There was nothing to hold on to as she crossed that endless expanse. She blindly stumbled ahead.

_Dear God,_ she thought,_ please don't let him see me._

Finally, she touched the wooden door. Grasping the handle, she pulled it open and the cavern's moist air hit her face. She slid out of the room and shut the door behind her. Then she staggered forward until the nausea and dizziness overtook her.

When she awoke, she was lying on her side with a pool of vomit next to her face. It was pitch black in the cavern, and silent. Slowly, she pushed herself up on to wobbly legs, and followed the slope to the lake below. After a few minutes, she found the boat, and lit the lantern.

The soft light brushed the still, shiny water. Staring at the narrow craft for a few minutes, she finally stepped inside, and pushed it away from the shore. With the paddle, she guided the boat in the direction that they always traveled from.

A little later, she glanced at her bloodied hands, and noticed the throbbing sting in her face. It dawned on her that she must have fallen against the sharp rocks of the cavern floor. Ignoring the pain, she determinedly paddled the craft along the lake. The amber lantern bobbed on its stand as it lit the water several yards in front of the boat.

It wasn't until she was well on her way that she realized that her usual terror was absent. She was in the middle of the underground lake, unsure of where she was going, and yet felt oddly calm, and collected.

_What happened to me?_ she thought as she peered through the darkness. Was it the knowledge that she was leaving a greater terror behind that had suddenly released her from her fear? Whatever the reason, she breathed a sigh of relief, and continued to search for the shore.

When the boat hit the rocky ledge, she stepped out, and dragged it out of the water. For the first time since she had left his home, she thought of Erik. She had his boat, and he was trapped on the opposite shore.

Shrugging, she quickly turned, and began her search for the passage that would take her above. _He's resourceful, _she thought. _He either has another boat or another way to get around the lake. What I need to do now is to get away as fast as I can. He will be angry with me when he finds that I've escaped._

_Escaped_. As she hunted for the passage, she pushed down her feelings of fear and grief over his betrayal.

After a few minutes, she found a passage and began her journey back to the opera house. As she walked up the corridor, she deeply regretted her previous plan of having Erik blindfold, and distract her as he carried her to his home. She had no idea which way to go.

Jade stopped and rested her back against the wall. As she saw it, she had two choices. She could systematically explore the passages and hope that it would get her out before he found her. Or, she could follow her intuition, and let it lead her. The risk with the latter choice was that in allowing her mind to settle into a relaxed state, she could easily fall into traps that he might have set. The thought of breaking a leg, or worse yet, her neck, sent a chill through her.

Shutting her eyes, she said a prayer and waited. After a few minutes, a tingling began on the right side of her face. At first, she thought it was simply the cool air irritating her wounds but then realized that it was something else. Inhaling deeply, she turned and followed the sensation.

Evidently her plan to shield Erik from discovery hadn't been as fool proof as she had intended. A blindfold and a velvety voice hadn't deceived her excellent memory. Jade walked the dusty corridors, and followed vague feelings that prompted her to turn to the left, and at other times, to the right.

When she found the chamber that they had sat in on opening night, she felt relieved. She knew how many steps it took to go from there to the storeroom. Retracing her steps, she arrived at a section of the wall. Examining that cool, rough surface, for a break in its continuity, she found a depression. Moments later, she was in the storeroom. After another minute of pressing various points on the doorframe, the door closed behind her.

Dashing back to her room, Jade crossed the empty corridors and arrived at her door. She quickly entered, and bolted it behind her. Moistening a cloth, she stood in front of the mirror, and studied the damage to her face as she washed off the dried blood. Then she went to the wardrobe, and pulled out her travel bags.

After packing everything that she owned, she left her room.

On the street in front of the opera house, she hailed a cab. Then she settled back into the seat, and emptily stared out the window.

It was still dark outside. The nights were growing longer as winter approached. _One month more and it'll be winter, _she thought dully. It was November twenty first. _Where will I be when it arrives?_

Shortly after the cab entered the third arrondissement, she signaled the driver to stop. A half hour later, Jade took another cab and continued eastward.

When the cab stopped, Jade stepped out and stared at the soot grimed tenement house that was surrounded by similar buildings. The dirty, narrow streets of that poor, eastside arrondissement had a dank smell. Her eyes swept the patches of cloud-laden sky that showed the first light of day. Lifting her chin, she walked through a door into the dismal hall beyond.

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After searching throughout his home for her, Erik lit a lantern and went to the boat. He stared in disbelief at the empty shore, and then turned his gaze to the blackness that shrouded the lake.

_How did she find the courage?_ he pondered.

Opening a second door to his home, he entered the shop that contained maintenance tools and his spare boat. After checking it, he launched the small craft, and propelled it across the lake.

On arriving at the opposite shore, he noted the silhouette of the missing boat. Exiting his craft, he sprinted to the passage.

_It is fortunate that I disabled the traps weeks ago, _he mulled as he silently raced along the corridors. Although Jade had told him that she did not want to know exactly how to get to his home, he had suspected that if an emergency arose, she would find a way to get into the passages. He couldn't risk her being harmed as she wandered through them.

And now, she was blindly navigating the corridors as she ran from him.

Erik clenched his jaw as he analyzed his stupidity. He should never have brought her to his home tonight. _The music must have terrified her if she was desperate enough to cross the lake alone. _He was still amazed that she'd been able to do it. He had to find her, and reassure her.

An hour later, he had combed all possible routes. There was no sign of her. Traveling to the staff quarters, he stood behind the mirror, and paused before he entered. The room was dark. By his estimation, it was seven thirty in the morning. It she had reentered the building, she would probably be asleep in her bed. He could already hear the stirring of others in the area. If he wished to see her, he would need to enter her room through the mirror.

It was important that he keep that entrance a secret. As long as she was ignorant of it, he had access to her. Erik listened carefully for sounds from within. When he heard nothing, he quietly opened the mirror.

It took only a second for him to realize that something was wrong. The faint light showed the wardrobe door ajar and the dresser drawers open. He lit a candle and inspected the room. She had taken everything, including the cloak and gown that he had given her.

_I should be grateful for that, _he thought ruefully. It meant that the bridge between them had not been irreparably damaged.

Immediately, he traveled to the outdoors, where he hailed a cab. Erik hated to go out in the daylight without the cover of inclement weather, but he had no choice.

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It was still early enough on Sunday morning that Jules Bernard had not yet left for mass with his family. He was sitting at breakfast when his oldest son brought Erik to the kitchen. Glancing up at him, Jules quickly led him to his study, and quietly shut the door. Then he offered the tall man a chair.

"How can I help you, Erik?" he asked calmly. It was a rare event when Erik came to his home. In all the years of their association, it had occurred no more than a half dozen times.

"I need your help, Jules," Erik replied firmly as he slid into the chair.

Jules eyed him and said nothing. After many years of dealing with Erik, he had learned something about the man, in spite of his propensity to hide his feelings. At this moment, Erik's coiled energy was palpable. Something serious was afoot.

The two men stared across at each other for a long moment. Then Jules reached for a pen and paper and waited for his instructions.

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The room that the older woman led Jade to was on the fourth floor of the five story building. It was small, dingy, and without heat. There was a small window that was brown from years of grime. The mattress that lay on rusted springs was old and still had the odors of the previous tenant. Jade paid the woman a week's rent, and then locked the door behind her.

With quiet determination, she unpacked her clothes and set them in the dresser. When she was finished, she spread several newspapers on the mattress, and her dark blue cloak over them. Then she covered herself with the cashmere cloak. After staring up at the water stains on the ceiling for several minutes, she finally shut her eyes and tried to sleep. She was exhausted, and badly needed the rest.

However, it evaded her and the thoughts poured in. _What happened? _She asked herself. Was Erik that unstable that her pulling away from him the previous night had provoked an attack upon her?

She thought of the music, and shuddered. It had been terrifying. His music always had a profound effect on her. In some ways, it was as powerful as her own. What had occurred was an overwhelming invasion of her senses. And he had done it deliberately, to hurt her. He knew that she was deeply affected by his music for he had used it to erase her fears when they crossed the lake.

_He knew what he was doing,_ she thought as she opened her eyes wide. Then she started to cry.

Turning her head to the side, her tears soaked into the cloak. After a bout of quiet grieving, she stared blankly at the dirty window. The morning light could barely be seen through its brownish panes.

She hadn't dared to go to Jean and Manette's. They would have offered her their guest room, and then she would have had to explain why she needed to refuse. It was too risky to stay there. Erik would find her, and in his efforts to get to her, he might harm her friends. It was better to stay here, until she knew what she was to do next. Then, if he found her, no one else would be harmed.

_If? _she thought as she furrowed her brow. _If_ he chose to pursue her, he would certainly find her. As long as she went back and forth to the opera house, she couldn't keep her location a secret. And she needed to work there until she could find other employment.

Regretfully, she now knew that she must leave the opera house behind. As long as she was in his domain, he would have complete access to her.

Jade thought of the horses, the music, and the multitude of artists that made up the Opera Populaire. The opulent splendor of its architecture coupled with it enormous breadth—it had been the most exciting place of her life. And beneath it all was a hidden world of beauty and magic, ruled by a man who had all the possibilities of life at his fingertips. His generosity, and kindness had been regal. She had felt like a princess in his home.

_Perhaps he will tire of me and turn to another, _she considered. With that thought, the tears began anew. To never be able to see his face again, or his tall, imposing figure was breaking her heart. At that moment, she didn't know what hurt the most—losing him, or being with him, and having him injure her because of his contempt for her.

Jade turned on her side and gazed at the green gown that hung over the chair. She hadn't wanted to leave it behind for someone else to find. He had given it to her in good faith, and she would keep it. But she seriously doubted that she would ever wear it again.

Pulling the cloak around her, she shut her eyes and tried to sleep.

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**A/N: dear readers, please don't shoot me! My characters made me write this chapter. They said to me, "what's a phanphiction without Erik having at least one meltdown?" So, I had to obey. I hope you didn't mind the angst too much. A little angst sometimes makes romance that much sweeter.**


	41. Chapter 41 Hidden

**A/N: the reference to morphine is taken from Susan Kay's book Phantom.**

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** Chapter 41 Hidden**

Jules watched as the man slouched out of the office. He looked down at the list in front of him, checked off the last location, and penned in the man's name next to it.

The clock struck the hour. Leaning back in his chair, he estimated that he wouldn't have time to return home and attend mass with his family. Missing the service meant that he'd have to go to confession tomorrow. It would be another chore to add to an already hectic day. He'd have to sandwich a visit to the church between his usual work and the new work Erik had generated for him in the last few hours.

Scanning the list, he read: churches, cemetery, M. and Mme. Dubois' apartment, train stations, Place de l'Opera cabs… Erik had covered all the possibilities of potential contacts and departure points.

Staring out the window, Jules' brow furrowed as he recalled Erik's dark figure seated in the study this morning. The man had looked like a caged panther. If he'd had a tail, Jules would have heard it thrashing fiercely against the chair. When he had outlined his strategy to Jules, disobedience hadn't been an option. Only a fool would have trifled with Erik when he was in that state.

_A woman again, _Jules mused. He felt a little chagrinned that he hadn't noticed the signs earlier.

The last time Erik was in love, their business had suffered greatly. In the ensuing months, Jules had managed the business alone as Erik had run amok in the opera house. Fortunately, there had been completed architectural plans to hand to some of their clients. And somehow, Jules had found a way to keep the business afloat without his guidance.

Today, he saw that old fire in Erik's eyes, and it gnawed at him. _He barely escaped with his sanity the last time, _Jules mulled gloomily. And now here he was, hiring men to stake out places in Paris in an attempt to locate a woman.

Shaking his head, he rose from the desk, and stood by the window. The midday sun, which slipped past the clouds, momentarily filled the room, and lit up his still figure.

Paris was a city of a million people. In spite of Erik's extensive strategies and the thumbnail sketches of the woman that he had created, there was a good chance she'd slip by them.

_What have you done, Erik?_ he pondered. As he turned back to his desk, a dark thought flashed through his mind—_When Erik falls in love, it is disastrous for everyone around him._

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The cab pulled away from the large expanse of the Place de l'Opera, and headed towards the third arrondissement. Erik waited impatiently inside with his hands resting on taut thighs. Coldly, his eyes followed the traffic. They were traveling to the place where the driver had taken Jade in the early morning. In its vicinity was the Boulevard de Sebastopol, which carried traffic to major rail terminuses of Paris—the Gare de l'Est and the Gare du Nord.

The carriage rolled along at a maddeningly slow pace as it weaved through the traffic. Erik's jaw tightened as he thought of the time being wasted. By now, Jade could have boarded a train and be miles from Paris.

But to where? _Burgundy?_

There were several clues as to the whereabouts of her family home. One was her intimate knowledge of the wine he had served her from the Chateau du Clos de Vougeot, which was located in Burgundy. Another was that she had studied in an abbey. And the last was the name of a neighbor, a M. Soleri, who had owned a horse farm near her home.

With those pieces of the puzzle, he could probably locate her village. However, at this time, Erik was not looking too closely in that direction. His instincts told him that she wouldn't go back there. Something about her shared confidences with his rival had led him to believe that she no longer had a family and was alone. But, just in case, he had sent a man to Burgundy to search out her past.

The cab arrived at the Place du Chatelet, and abruptly stopped. Hopping down, the driver approached the neighboring cabs. Erik watched as the man showed the sketch to the other drivers.

Twisting in his seat, Erik looked up the avenue in the direction of the train terminuses. "Damn that dawdling fool," he growled. Every minute increased the risk of losing her.

Glaring at the man, Erik opened the door, and the movement caught the driver's eye. He suddenly turned back to his cab, and quickly approached the window.

"No one has seen her, Monsieur. I left two of the sketches with the other drivers, and told them of the reward.

"Get on with it," Erik said in a low, dangerous voice.

With a flick of the reins the horse moved ahead. The carriage swung onto the large boulevard in the direction of the trains.

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That afternoon, Jade stood on the high hill of Montmartre, and gazed across the valley. Behind her, a noisy windmill spun busily in the wind. Its large arms made a drawn out swooshing sound as they circled above her head.

Below was Paris with its narrow, dirty streets, grand boulevards and heroic monuments. In the distance she could see the grand arch of the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile, which sat in the center of intersecting streets that radiated from it like the points of a star. To the east was the Jardin de Tulleries guarded by a fierce obelisk that speared the sky. The steely, gray waters of the Seine lay just beyond the Jardin with barges lazily ignoring the day of rest as they inched along the river.

A blast of wind lifted the dark hair from her face, and spread out her skirt. Jade turned her head, and slowly took in the far-reaching vista that exposed palaces and slums to the casual eye. She had left the turmoil of the crowded city behind, and had hiked to those heights in an attempt to reclaim mental clarity and an elusive peace.

_In one evening everything has been swept away,_ she pensively reflected.

She should have known that it wouldn't be simple. The appearance of Jean-Luc's double had portended a disaster. But she thought she'd side stepped that ill wind when she confided in Pierre.

Sitting on a cold, stone bench, she turned her eyes to the sky. The dreadful ache of her grief was safely stowed away. In the somber light of that overcast day, her mind was working again.

She was remembering the conversation with Jean and Manette that had had occurred the week after she had stayed with them. While dining together, Jean had said to her, "By the way, Jade, I want to thank you for all the work you did in our apartment when you were staying with us. Sometimes I let chores slip. I'd been meaning to oil that front door hinge for some time but never got around to it. It's pleasant to come home and not hear its wail each time I open the door." Jean smiled cheerfully at Jade, and then gave Manette a good-natured wink as well.

Jade had looked at him, puzzled.

Another memory arose. The first night that Erik had entered her room, she had boldly asked him how he was able to get past the lock, and he had replied, "I have keys to all the rooms in my opera house."

_I've been very stupid, _she realized as she solemnly gazed at the miniature cathedral of Notre-Dame perched on the Ile de la Cite in the Seine.

_He's already been inside Jean and Manette's home at least once. What will keep him from returning? _she pondered.

Closing her eyes, she felt the breeze play with her hair, and thought, _it's me he wants, not them. _As long as she stayed clear of her friends, they would probably remain safe.

A day ago, she wouldn't have worried about it. But now, she was badly shaken. The man she had seen at the organ was not the Erik that she knew. He had disappeared, replaced by the Opera Ghost. She wouldn't expose those she loved to that danger.

The thought of Erik creeping through her friends' home made her shudder. She knew that her concerns might be groundless, but she didn't dare take the chance. Somehow, she had to find a way to contact her friends without risking their safety. Which meant that she couldn't go to Pierre's home for shelter. Erik knew where he lived.

Brushing pieces of leaves from her skirt, she rose and began her descent down the hill. As she walked along the road she heard the nearby bleating of sheep and the occasional crow of a rooster. To her right were cultivated plots of grape vines, which grew abundantly on the hill. She paused and inhaled deeply the rich scent of damp earth, and recalled the hills that were near her village. A pang of homesickness hit her, and a tear escaped.

_Why did Erik attack me?_ she meditated as she continued her way down the road. Clearly, she had angered him to the point of frenzy. She sorrowfully looked down at the road, and wondered how he had behaved with his diva when he was angry with her. Had he been cruel to her as well?

_No, _she thought, p_robably not. _His diva was a beautiful woman with great gifts. She was a former star of the opera with an angelic voice, and she had married a kind, handsome, and rich man. She must be extremely desirable to have such attractive and powerful men pursuing her. Erik only chose the best.

_Unlike me, _she considered dejectedly. Quite the contrary—she was someone who hid secrets from others and had music playing in her mind that at times she was compelled to dance to. There was something seriously wrong with her, and Erik had known it before they'd met.

And like the others who had discovered her secret, he had eventually turned against her.

_He gave me a great deal of beauty before he drove me away, _she pondered mournfully. For a brief hour, she had believed that it was possible that someone else besides Jean-Luc could love the part of her that she hid from others.

That last thought released her grief, and the tears streamed down her face. Jade fumbled for a handkerchief. After wiping her eyes, she resolutely stared ahead and entered the street.

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The next day, a frowning Jacque DuChant stared at the letter in his hand. He didn't know if he should feel annoyed or relieved.

It read:

**Monsieur DuChant,**

**I am unable to come to work this week, and I do not know when I will be able to return. Therefore, I am sorry to say that I must resign my position at the Opera Populaire.**

**I wish to thank you for all of your assistance and kind considerations. I am very grateful for the opportunities that you have provided me. I am sorry if I have disappointed you by this sudden decision. **

**Jade Bouta **

DuChant looked up at the door where the stony faced Mme. Truffaut stood.

Pointing the letter in her direction he said, "Mlle. Bouta has just informed me that she will not be returning to the opera house. Did you know about this?"

Mme. Truffaut gave him a disgusted look and said tersely, "No, Monsieur. I received a note from her as well this morning saying the same thing."

Laying the letter on top of a stack of papers, he glanced at it a few minutes later. Relief had finally outweighed his annoyance. He was done with her. Pierre could no longer use their friendship to sway him in regards to that troublesome employee. The only thing left was to pay her the wages that were owed to her. He would leave it up to her to break the news to his friend.

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Later that evening, Jean and Manette received a visit from their friend, Gabrielle. She stepped through the door wearing her new artistic dress of lavender silk scented with the fragrance of violets. As she settled on to the far end of the couch, away from the fire, she looked up at their expectant faces.

"I have something for you," she said crisply with a twinkle in her eye, and handed Jean a letter addressed to him and Manette from Jade.

After opening it, Jean shot a look at Manette. "Jade says that she's quit her position at the opera house." Manette's eyebrows rose as she moved to the edge of the chair. Jean read the letter with a frown, and then passed it to Manette.

When she was finished with the letter Manette looked at Jean, whose worried face matched her own.

Turning to Gabrielle, he asked, "When did she give this to you? Is she well?"

Gabrielle gave them both a bright look. She was relishing her role in this adventure. "She is fine. She came to me this morning and gave me this letter. At that time, she told me that she could not trust a messenger to deliver it, and that her location needed to be kept a secret for everyone's safety."

"Safety!" exclaimed Jean as he gave her an intense look. "Did she tell you what's in this letter?"

Nodding, she replied. "Yes, and more. She wants you to be careful not to reveal to anyone that you have spoken with your employer about receiving her wages, and to not leave anything written behind about the matter. After you obtain the funds, I will visit you and deliver them to her."

Jean abruptly interrupted. "Where is she staying?"

Shaking her head, Gabrielle replied, "She doesn't want anyone to know at this time. I will meet with her at a designated location when she is ready."

A tense silence followed as Jean stared into Manette's worried eyes.

"If I find out who's doing this to her, there will be hell to pay," Jean said in a rough voice.

Manette quickly rose, and put her hand on his shoulder as her other hand rested on her stomach. "Please Jean, don't talk like that." He glanced at her belly, and let out a short, explosive sigh.

Gabrielle stood up, and looked down at Jean as she said smoothly, "She seems to be an intelligent woman who is not prone to foolish flights of fancy. I believed her when she said that we must be careful."

She gave her friends a long look, and then took the letter out of Jean's hand. Standing next to the fireplace, she dropped it into the flames. Then she stepped back to avoid the ashy sparks that flew up as the fire greedily consumed it.

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That night, Erik rifled through the papers in the management offices, and found Jade's letter to DuChant. After quickly reading it, he stuffed it into his pocket and continued his search. He was looking for an address or the name of the person DuChant would be sending her wages to. There was nothing.

Leaving the office, he traveled to the iron-gate where Jules was to leave reports concerning the search for her. He gathered up the papers, and reentered the opera house through the hidden passages. Lighting a lantern, he scanned the notes. There wasn't a scrap of useful information in the pile, just vague mentions of unconfirmed sightings. When he was finished he stuffed them into a pouch, and made his way up to the staff quarters.

The room was as he had left it the day before with drawers open and the wardrobe door ajar. A sharp pang sprang through his chest as he looked down at her bed. He could see her sitting there with the covers pulled up to her neck, staring back at him with her intense eyes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slowly stroked the blankets with his leather-clad hand, and then scooped them up to his nose.

He found it difficult to believe that she was gone.

"Stubborn," he murmured out loud. "Childish." She hadn't had the courage to endure his anger. And he hadn't had the strength to hold it back.

He stared down at his arms, which were outlined in the faintest of light. Hidden were the track marks from his years of morphine use. It had taken him months to end the habit, and longer to lose the cravings.

It was the appearance of Christine that had sealed his resolve. That beautiful child had touched him deeply, and given him the strength to quit the drug. He had resolved never to go back to that slavery.

But now, as he gazed at his arms, he wondered if it might not be wiser to return to the habit. It had helped him control his fury. It had dampened his hatred of the injustices of his life.

Thoughtfully, he glanced around the room with the hope that something new had appeared since yesterday. That is when he saw the outline of an envelope next to the door.

Quickly, he snatched it up, and exited through the mirror. He lit the lantern, and stared at the blank envelope. Then he carefully opened it and read:

**My dear Erik,**

**When you find this, you will know that I have left the opera house. I will not be returning.**

**I am sorry that we have parted under these circumstances. If I have offended you, please believe me when I say that I never intended to do so. You have given me a great deal. I will always be grateful for your gifts and the kindness that you have shown me. I will remember fondly our conversations and the time that we spent together.**

**I promise that I will do my utmost to not betray your trust. Your secrets will remain hidden. I will speak of them to no one.**

**Farewell. Please do not try to find me.**

**Jade**

Erik stared at the letter until the words blurred, and the paper trembled in his hands. He carefully inserted it back into its envelope, and placed it in a secure pocket. Then he spun on his heel and strode down the passage.

His impulse was to rush to the river and search for her. She loved the Seine, and had spent many hours walking its banks. If she felt a fraction for him of what he was feeling for her, she would be restlessly wandering familiar haunts.

Or, she would seek out his rival for comfort.

Scowling at that thought, Erik's eyes blazed. The man and his relatives were being watched. If Jade went there he would soon know.

The cold air hit his face as he approached the stable. Silently, he moved towards the stall. The Arabian stallion's cry rang out as the animal caught his scent. Eagerly, the horse pushed his fine head over the half door, and stretched his long, sinewy neck towards Erik. His large nostrils flared in anticipation.

Gently, Erik stroked the quivering animal, and stared into his eyes. "If you were only a dog, my friend. We could hunt the streets together, and we would soon find her," he said in a soothing tone. After two days of searching for her, his instincts told him that she was still in Paris, hiding.

He was a wealthy man. If he had to turn over every stone in Paris or for that matter in France, he would find her.

As his long fingers ran across the satiny coat of the horse, he watched the animal relax under his hypnotic caress.

_It doesn't matter what her feelings are for me,_ Erik meditated as he continued to stroke the horse. _When I find her, I will not let her go_.

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The heavy cloak swung against Jade's legs as she carried her basket in the rain. She had hoped to be able to get back to her room before the shower hit. Fortunately, the tenement house was nearby.

She climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, and opened her door. Inside, she removed the damp cloak and hung it on a peg on the wall, and then rubbed her hands briskly to restore their circulation. A hot cup of tea would have tasted good and banished the chill. Perhaps tonight, Mme. Pissaro would invite her to her apartment to sit by the fire. Madame always offered her tea at such times, which was a welcome treat after a cold day in her room.

Uncovering the basket, Jade carefully removed from it a piece of lace and a bodice. Laying them down on the bed, she lit her two lamps, and settled in to do her work.

Several days after she had left the opera house, she had found employment with a garment shop as a seamstress. Every few days, she would pick up a basket of work and carry it back to her room where she would sew. It was fine work that required close attention. Although it was a tedious job, she was quick enough at it to have already saved a tiny sum of money. The problem was that she needed to do the work in her room.

The hard winter that Pierre had predicted was coming to pass. Day and night, Jade would sew with stiff, chilled hands. A couple nights a week she would take her work below to Mme. Pissaro's rooms. There, while sitting by the warm fire as she kept the older woman company, she would take advantage of the heat and good light to get extra work done. It was so much easier to work when her hands were warm and limber.

The winds would howl around her little window, and seep through the cracks in the wall. Her room was always cold, sometimes freezing. In order to keep warm in the unheated room, she would stuff newspapers between her two chemises. At night, her cloaks served as blankets, which she would wrap tightly about her.

She followed the same routine—sewing, picking up a new order, and taking a daily meal at the local café. On Sundays, she would attend mass at a nearby church. She had arranged with the priest to sit in the loft for the service so that she would not be seen, and would leave once the church emptied.

Once a week, she would allow time for a long walk, and travel to one of the seven hills that surrounded the city. The brisk trip up the slope would tire her enough to calm her mind and ease her depression. At that time, she forgot about her dismal life and all the beauty that she had lost. As she gazed down at the river below, serenity would return to her. She'd watch the birds flit about in the nearby trees, and she'd study the hardy winter plants that were scattered around her. It was a sanctuary from her melancholy feelings. Even when the wind blew cold against her frame and set her to shivering, she would still drift off into daydreams that included horses, Gillian, and Erik's beautiful hands.

That evening, Mme. Pissaro invited her down for tea. The old woman was a chatty sort and loved to talk about her impressions of life and people. It was she who had steered Jade to the garment shop for work. In her own way, she looked out for several of the tenants of the building.

"I was at market today and I saw an old friend of mine," said Mme. Pissaro. "We had lunch together, and he told me about his son who is applying to the Institute of Fine Arts. Do you like art, my dear?" Jade quickly looked up, nodded, and returned to her work.

"They will be entertaining during the holidays, and he invited me to his home. I wondered if you might care to join me?" The gray haired woman looked intently at Jade as she waited for a reply.

Pausing from her work, Jade considered the invitation. Ever since she had left the opera house, she had felt starved for human company. Perhaps it was because of the long hours that she spent alone in her room as she worked. Or maybe it was her dining alone, away from her friends. She had grown accustomed to the bustle of the Opera Populaire, the excitement, and the endless stream of people.

The winter rains had descended upon Paris and with them a profound bleakness. The streets were wet and cold, and the damp clung to her bones. Sometimes, the only color that she could see was gray, as if all the light of the world had been sucked out and then filtered back in that dull tone. When she wasn't working, she often wanted to be in bed. At least there, she could sleep, and dream of the life that she had lost.

Looking up at the woman, she asked, "When were you planning to go?"

Mme. Pissaro smiled and said, "I've been invited on the twenty ninth of this month. They will be having a party after Christmas." She took Jade's cup and refilled it with the warm beverage. "Today is the fifteenth, so it is two weeks away. Were you planning on leaving Paris for the holidays?"

Shaking her head 'no', Jade bent her head over the lace, and continued to stitch. She was trying to decide if it was safe to appear in public. After a couple minutes, she set aside her work, and cradled the warm teacup in her hands.

"Where is their home?" she asked quietly. She had spent the last few weeks avoiding her old haunts and especially the ninth arrondissement where the opera house was located.

"They live in the Montmarte area, my dear," replied Mme. Pissaro cheerfully. She picked up the tea tray, and carried it to the kitchen. Then she returned with a pastry that she had bought earlier that day. She was in the habit of giving her guest a treat after their tea to take with her to her room. She had noticed that Jade was getting thinner with each passing week, and it was beginning to trouble the older woman.

Jade looked up, and smiled at her as she took the gift. Mme. Pissaro patted her arm gently. "Please think about it, my dear," she said. "I would enjoy your company."

Later in her room, Jade lay beneath her covers, and shivered for a bit as she adapted to the cold room. She was looking forward to falling asleep. It had become the best part of her life. Her dreams were often long and vivid. In them, she would be reunited with those whom she loved. Pierre would come to her, and they would walk by the Seine. Jean and Manette would take her to a local café where there was always plenty of wine and jokes. Sometimes she would ride the horses and Gillian would be with her, sitting in front. Jade would hold her small body against hers and laugh at how her hair would fluff up in the wind.

Lastly, Erik would come to her. She had dreamt of him several times in the morning, just before she awoke. They were sitting together in his home, and it was very dark there. The candles had burned out and there was only the lantern light between them. He then carried her to her bedroom but refused to lay down next to her. Instead, he stared at her with an expressionless face. His white mask was cold and soon that cold penetrated her flesh until she began to shiver. Then she would awake, and realize that she had kicked off her covers.

The wind rattled the windowpane as she began to drift off. Soon it would be Christmas. She wondered what she could afford to buy for the child…

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**A/N: Ile de la Cite means Isle of the city. **


	42. Chapter 42 Winter

**Chapter 42 Winter**

The snow drifted slowly from the inky sky, and settled on the vehicles traveling along the wide, Parisian boulevard. Carriages slipped past each other, sliding ahead on snow slicked, icy tracks. A wintry hush blanketed the street. Occasionally, raucous laughter split the air as a carriage full of rambunctious, young partygoers careened through the crowd of vehicles.

Jade stared out of the carriage window at the dancing snowflakes. Tilting her head up, she tried to see the sky above as bits of snow blew in and settled on her dark hair. As she pulled her cloak about her throat, her gaze fell to the large building ahead. The church of St-Vincent-de-Paul was swinging into view.

They were traveling towards Montmartre along an expansive street—the Boulevard de Magenta. To their left was the ninth arrondissement, the neighborhood where the Opera Populaire was located. To the right was the train terminus—the Gare du Nord, behind which lay Parisian slums, abattoirs, and wine shops.

Sitting back in her seat, Jade glanced at her companion who was quietly watching her. Mme. Pissaro had said little since they had entered the carriage. For once, she was silent without her usual flow of conversation and ideas.

Jade leaned back further into the seat, and shut her eyes.

After some reflection, she had decided to go to the holiday gathering that Mme. Pissaro had invited her to. The house was far enough away from the Opera Populaire that the chance of being seen by someone who knew her was practically nonexistent. And she needed to get out of her room. Her melancholy was getting worse. In the last two weeks, she had slipped further from day to day life, and plunged deeper into her dreams.

She had spent Christmas alone in her room with a loaf of bread and a bit of cheese. It had rained heavily that day, so a walk had been out of the question. Instead, she had pulled her chair up to the window, and watched the occasional pedestrian slog along the flooded streets below.

_What is Pierre doing at this moment? _she had meditated while staring at the leaden sky. And how were her other friends faring—Manette, Jean, and Paul Rascon? She had even wondered what Madame Truffaut, that steely willed tyrant, was up to on that dreary day.

Then of course, her mind had settled on Erik. She couldn't contact him—the post didn't carry letters to the Opera Ghost—and she was vaguely worried about him. Her letter of farewell had been terribly inadequate. She had wanted to pour out her feelings to him, to say that she was deeply sorry about their parting. But what good would it have done to make such a declaration? He would have ended up despising her even more. And it might have reinforced any idea that he already had to pursue her.

She had sent letters to her friends before Christmas to reassure them as to her health and safety. There had been an especially long one to Pierre. She knew that he would be worried about her.

Looking out the carriage window, Jade focused on the buildings, and breathed in the crisp air. She thought of the pair of gloves that was sitting on her dresser. They were to have been a Christmas present for Gillian. But after consideration, she had decided to wait until next month to deliver them in person. If Erik was still searching for her, he would have anticipated her visiting the child on that special day.

"Are you comfortable, my dear?" asked her companion.

Pulled out of her thoughts, Jade smiled slightly. "Yes, thank you, Mme. Pissaro. And you?"

The older woman gave her a bright smile, and replied, "I am looking forward to seeing my friend Etienne and his family. It has been too long."

Monsieur Etienne Coupeau was a successful businessman who was an old childhood friend of Mme. Pissaro. According to her, M. Coupeau was well enough off that he could afford to send his son to art school and indulge in his own lively passion for the arts.

"There will be people of all ages at the party," she had explained to Jade. "I'm certain you will enjoy yourself."

Perhaps the older woman was correct, and the party would be a pleasant distraction. Jade needed to lighten her mood. Lately, she had been thinking of how much she needed to leave Paris which had become extremely dreary._ If I work hard and scrimp, then by spring I'll have enough money to leave_,she had pondered.Winter was a bad time to be traveling the country with little money. She hadn't forgotten the misery of her first ten days in Paris.

It was depressing to be stuck in this city, impoverished and isolated from her friends. Since leaving the opera house, her melancholy seemed to be growing worse by the day. She was troubled by the fact that she had lost interest in daily life.

But the worst part was the self doubt. She no longer trusted her intuition. It had betrayed her when it had signaled that Erik was to be an important part of her destiny. When he had attacked her with his music, it had shattered her confidence.

Without that intuitive guidance that she had always depended upon in the past, the best she could do was to rely on her common sense. And that told her that when the seasons changed, she should abandon Paris and seek a new home.

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The two women stepped through the front door of the large house. Inside, seated in the salon, were several dozen people clustered into groups.

The first thing that Jade noticed was the large number of paintings hanging on the walls. It was a tastefully arranged display of classical and contemporary art. After the introductions to her host and hostess, Jade left her companion, and slowly moved across the room as she viewed the paintings. Excitement stirred in her as she approached a small, highly colored work that hung in a distant corner. Facing it, she caught her breath. Before her was a pastel by Degas that depicted diminutive ballerinas gathered together in casual poses. One of the children had white hair.

Tears rimmed her eyes as she stood glued to the spot, and stared at Gillian's image. She forgot where she was as a wave of feeling rushed through her.

"What do you think of it?" a voice behind her queried.

Turning, Jade looked into the smiling eyes of Raoul de Chagny.

"It's lovely," she replied quietly. She turned away, and composed herself.

"How are you, Mlle. Bouta?" he asked gently.

Jade wiped the tears out of her eyes, and turned back to him.

"I am well, M. de Chagny. Although, I'm a little surprised to see you here this evening."

Raoul chuckled, and offered her his arm. He escorted her to a group of people, and invited her to join them.

"Mlle. Bouta, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Christine de Chagny," he said with shining eyes.

The brown haired woman looked across at Jade, and for the second time that night, she caught her breath.

_She's beautiful!_ She marveled.

Reaching across, Christine touched Jade's hand and said, "My husband speaks highly of you, Mlle. Bouta. He says that you are a lover of the arts."

Tongue tied, Jade simply gazed into those beautiful, luminous eyes, and pondered, _She is the one he loves. Erik chose well. _Then she smiled shyly at the young woman.

Parisians were notorious for their expressiveness. It was a lively group of educated people that Jade found herself in the midst of that evening. Their witty comments ran the gamut of music, theater, and art. She listened silently, fascinated by the opinions around her. Eventually, the topic turned to recent imports from the orient, particularly from Japan.

"I'll grant you that their goods show a certain refined delicacy," said one young man, "but their architecture does not possess the monumental character of ours. Theirs is an example of over refined thought that lacks the thrust of French masculinity."

A few witty remarks followed about French architecture being the result of an unfettered male drive. After a momentary lull, Jade spoke.

"I don't believe you can compare the two in that way. The purpose of Japanese architecture is different than that of its European counterpart."

"How so?" queried the young man. His eyes raked across her, and she could see unhidden contempt playing about his mouth. Jade suddenly became acutely aware that her plain clothes revealed her lower social status in that elite group.

However, that didn't humble her enough to pass on his challenge.

"It is easy to see if you take the time to study the Japanese style and its relationship to their geography, and religious beliefs," she replied as she firmly looked her opponent in the eye. "Japan is a set of volcanic islands with an abundance of forests and with little stone. They are regularly beset by typhoons and earthquakes. Their architects have ingeniously chosen to use the materials on hand in order to live in harmony with the forces that surround them. That choice is reflected in unique designs using wooden columns and beams to create gentle curves. The result is an elegant, simple beauty, which is not only in harmony with the elements of nature, but also protects their structures from natural disasters."

As she spoke, she was remembering her discussion with Erik on that topic. One evening, he had explained to her the sketches from his book on Japanese architecture. Erik was a wonderful teacher, capable of taking the most complicated concepts and transforming them into simple statements. Fascinated, she had asked him question after question until he had finally closed the book, and told her that they would continue their discussion on another day.

As she held her audience's attention, Jade thought of the slight smile on Erik's face when he had answered her questions. His eyes had sparkled as she had continued to probe deeper in an attempt to go beyond the basic ideas that he had first presented to her.

Suddenly, Jade stopped talking, and stared blankly at the faces that were turned towards her. She was realizing how alive she had felt with Erik.

After a brief silence, Raoul interceded. "Brava, Mlle. Bouta. That was well put." Then he turned to the young man and said, "You have been trounced, my friend."

The rest of the evening, Jade kept her peace as she listened to the others. She particularly enjoyed hearing Christine's musical voice, which had a sweet, joyous quality. As the young husband and wife spoke to each other with glances and gentle touch, she watched them with tenderness and sadness. Their love was soothing and delicate. Was that the reason that the young woman had chosen Raoul over Erik? Had his dark passion and fierce temper frightened her away?

Later, as Jade and her companion prepared to leave, Raoul approached her and spoke.

"It was fortunate that we met again tonight. Christine and I would very much like to have you visit with us. Shall I send word to you through the address that you gave me the last time we spoke?"

Jade hesitated, and then gave him her new address. Once he knew where she lived, he might reconsider his offer. And what if Erik was still keeping tabs on Christine? Her instincts were telling her to be careful, but in the end, it was her loneliness and curiosity that won out.

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The first days of 1875 had come and gone, and the abnormally cold winter continued. Paris alternated between being buried in snow or drenched by rain.

Erik sat in his snug, heated home. In front of him were a stack of papers that he'd been collecting since Jade's departure. At the top was Jade's letter to Pierre, the one she had sent him shortly before Christmas. It had been deftly lifted by one of Erik's spies, and replaced with a copy that had been sent on to his rival.

The letter indicated that Jade was still living in an unknown part of Paris, and that she intended to remain there until the spring.

Erik picked it up, and studied the handwriting again. There was something strained about the script, as if she had been under duress while writing it. And although the content was not unusual, on reading between the lines, he had sensed her distress.

It was a month and a half since Jade had left the opera house, and he was no nearer to finding her. She had proven to be an elusive prey.

"No surprise there," he murmured. She was by nature a survivor, and she'd gone to ground. Unfortunately, he had become the enemy. Or at least, someone she feared.

Moving to the organ, he played for a half hour as he tried to empty his mind. When he finished, he donned his cloak, and exited his home.

Traveling through the cave, he made his way to the ice slicked streets, and hailed a cab. He was scheduled to meet Jules at the office, and receive the weekly reports from the provinces.

Staring out the window at the traffic, Erik considered the harsh winter. Signs of its effects were easily seen by any one who cared to look about the city. The impoverished were suffering in their unheated homes, and the city morgue was loaded with unclaimed bodies of the homeless who had frozen to death on the subzero nights.

Erik had breathed a sigh of relief when Jules had handed him Jade's letter to Pierre. It meant that she was alive and probably well. But that had been before the drop in temperature. Who knew what conditions she might be enduring at the moment? The thought of her potential hardship weighed heavily on his mind.

Along with the stolen letter, Jules had also handed him a report from his man in Burgundy. The fellow was confident that he had discovered Jade's family home. It matched the facts he'd been given. Erik had poured over that report, and been puzzled by it. It said that she still had a living relative, her father, who continued to reside near the village of . There was no evidence that Jade had been back to visit him since she had left six years before.

That mystery needed solving. The man had been ordered to stay in Burgundy, and continue his investigation.

The carriage pulled up in front of the office, and Erik smoothly stepped out. Once inside, he slid off his cloak, and hung it on the rack. Then he silently sat down across from Jules, and raised his eyebrow in a question.

He knew Jules didn't approve of his activities in regards to finding Jade. Already, because of it, the business had suffered. Erik had turned away new clients' and refused new requests for construction. He and Jules had continued to work on their existing projects, but a number of them were now near completion. He understood Jules' need that the events that had occurred two years before not be repeated. The man had a large family to support.

Jules handed Erik a half dozen reports. Opening up a dirt grimed envelope, Erik perused its contents, and his face stiffened. After a moment, he handed it to Jules.

"Take a look at this," he said gruffly.

Jules read the letter, and then quickly glanced up at Erik with a frown. "Do you believe this?" he asked.

"It needs further investigation," replied Erik. "Order me a carriage. I'll leave this evening, and tomorrow I'll meet with the man who sent this."

Striding out of the office, Erik entered the waiting cab, which sped back to the opera house.

His mind was racing. The information that the letter had produced felt wrong—like a badly written drama. He needed to attend to the matter quickly. If Jade were to discover the news before he got to her… Fortunately, the weather was bad enough that it was unlikely that she would leave Paris, at least for now. That gave him some time.

He shook his head as he thought of the report. "Damnation," he said as he let out an explosive sigh.

At what point would luck turn and again be on his side?

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Jade shut the travel bag, and put it in the corner of her room. Standing by the window, she watched the rain fall. There were still no signs of it letting up. It had been like this for days.

Turning away, she picked up her sewing, and finished the last piece from the basket. Tomorrow morning, she would take the completed work back to the shop, and from there go to the train. Then she would travel to the port of Le Havre.

She needed a holiday. Her mind was numb from the meaningless routine and unending isolation. She had a serious case of cabin fever, and desperately needed to get away from this dismal city. It was January the thirteenth, and a long way from spring.

0000

The next evening, Jade arrived in Le Havre. After making a few inquiries, she hired a driver to take her to the nearby village where she checked into the local inn. Unpacking her few items, she left the inn and headed towards the church.

A bitter January wind was blowing across the coast. She pulled her cloak close as she briskly walked to the end of the village where the church and the rectory were located. It was a good place to start in her search for Gillian. The priest would be familiar with all the families in the area, and could point her to the house where the child lived.

But first, she needed to ask him a few questions about the people who had taken Gillian in. Would her sudden visit be welcomed or regarded as an intrusion into their affairs?

It was one of the reasons she had chosen not to visit during the Christmas season. Gillian's new parents might be possessive of her and not want someone from her past to steal her attention. On the other hand, if she was careful to not tread too heavily on their parental rights, they may feel comfortable with her visit. Jade was determined to approach the situation carefully, and the priest was the key to providing the information that she needed.

The rectory's drapes were drawn but a hint of light showed that the priest was there. Knocking on the door, she waited. The heavy door swung open, and a man in a black cassock stood in front of her.

"Good evening, father," she said in a respectful voice.

"How can I help you?" the priest asked brusquely. Jade could smell the delicious odor of meat cooking, and she guessed that she had interrupted his supper.

"Excuse me father for disturbing you. But I'm from out of town, and I'm trying to find someone."

The priest looked her over, and then motioned for her to come in.

He ushered her to the table, and passed her a bowl of stew. Nodding her thanks, Jade hungrily ate it. She hadn't had anything to eat that day except for a meager breakfast. The moment that she had smelled the stew, her stomach had started to growl.

After finishing the meal, which was accompanied by fresh bread with butter, she sighed happily. Then she turned her eyes to the silent priest who was watching her.

"Father, I've just come in from Paris on the train, and I had hoped that you could help me find someone who moved to this village a couple of months ago. She is a little girl who used to live at my place of employment. Her name is Gillian, and her new guardian is M. Noir."

At the sound of that name, his mouth fell slightly open, and he began to cough as if a piece of bread had lodged in his throat. When he had finished, he looked solemnly at the woman.

"Are you a relative of the child?" he asked slowly.

Shaking her head, she replied, "I am a friend. I used to have supper with her and her teacher every night in the opera house where we lived. I was away from Paris when her new guardian took her away. I had hoped to visit her sooner but it was only now that I could get here."

The priest looked at her steadily as she spoke, and then rose from the table. He signaled for her to follow him to the front room. After she was seated, he poured some brandy and offered it to her. "Drink this," he said firmly.

Obeying, Jade drained the glass, and then handed it back to the man with a question in her eyes.

After making short work of his own glass, he sat down across from her.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mademoiselle, but the child you seek is no longer with us," he said gently.

Jade stared at him for a few moments, and then asked, "What do you mean?"

Shifting in his seat, the priest gazed at her for a long moment and said, "The little girl died late last month."

The color drained from Jade's face, and she stared at him blankly. Then she gripped the side of the couch and steadied herself. Swallowing hard, she looked into his hazel colored eyes and whispered, "How?"

After determining that she was not about to faint, he answered. "It was a fishing boat accident. Her guardian and a friend were fishing off the coast, and had the child with them. A storm blew in, and she fell into the sea and drowned."

_Drowned!_

Jade slowly rose from the chair and said "No." Then she staggered towards the priest who grabbed her around the shoulders to steady her.

Swinging her head from side to side, she said, "No. Not her."

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle," the man said gently as he guided her back into the chair.

Slumping into her seat, she emptily stared into the space between them. After several minutes she asked, "Where did you bury her?"

Shaking his head, he replied cautiously, "Her body was never recovered. However, her family did have a marker placed in the cemetery."

She lifted her dull eyes to the man, and looked through him to the wall beyond. "Please take me there, father."

The church yard was still except for the sound of the wind. The priest showed her the small, white wooden cross which had the child's name carved on it. It was in a part of the cemetery where children were buried. Jade's gaze fixed on it. The priest watched her for several minutes, and then left her alone.

The wind died down, and the heavy stillness of the night settled around her as she stared at the cross. The waxing half moon spread a bleak light across the naked ground that blended shadows with pale tombstones. Later, the wind returned, and furiously whipped across that small sequestered yard. Jade stood there with her mind empty of thought or sensation. All that remained was a dull cloud, and a numbness that had taken over her body.

After an hour, the priest returned, and led her to the Inn. There, she packed up her things, and asked if she could hire a driver to take her back to the port that night. An hour later, she was sitting on a crate, and staring at the ocean.

_Drowned,_ she thought as reality began to set in. She had lost the child the same way that she had lost Jean-Luc.

_Everything is gone, _she mulled emptily.

On the next day, she rode the train back to Paris. As she entered the city, Jade felt a crushing weight settle upon her.

Dragging herself back to the tenement house, she mounted the four flights of stairs to her room where she opened the door, and then shut out the world.

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**A/N: Dear readers, I know that this is a lot of angst. It was a hard chapter for me to write. After one more chapter, the direction of the story will be changing, so please hold on a little longer. **


	43. Chapter 43 Grief

**Dear Readers, here's an early chapter for you. Happy Easter!**

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**Chapter 43 Grief**

Erik slowly rose from his seat, his face frozen in a mask of rage.

"Read it," he breathed.

Glancing at the letter on the desk, Jules shook his head and replied, "I already have. He sent me one as well."

"You knew about this?" Erik asked icily.

Nodding, Jules raised his eyes to Erik, and met his fierce gaze.

The letter was from their agent in Le Havre. The man had left his post for several days to attend to his sick mother. When he had returned, he had discovered that Jade had visited the priest two days before. In his report, he detailed her meeting with the priest, and his investigation at the train terminus.

"Because of that fool, we may have lost our only lead." Erik's tone was murderous. He strode to the cloak rack, and slid the heavy garment over his taut shoulders. Then he faced his wary companion.

Jules knew that it was pointless to defend the man. Cautiously eyeing Erik, he quietly stated, "I have a man standing by to go with us to the train terminus."

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Erik stonily gazed at the black, upholstered carriage wall as the dull light of day brushed its surface. Jade had returned to Paris by train on the afternoon of the fifteenth. Now he needed to do the leg work that would determine where she had traveled to after arriving. Every cab driver and station worker would need to be questioned about seeing a nondescript woman who looked like half of the working class population of Paris. The four day delay had more than likely erased any trace of her from the minds of those who may have noticed her quiet presence. For the first time, Erik wished that she was a great beauty. A stunning example of womanhood would have stamped itself on the memory of males and left him a trail to follow.

On the fifteenth, there had been a particularly bad spot of weather. Therefore, it was highly likely that she had taken a cab back to her residence. Unless she lived close to the terminus, in which case she may have walked.

The thought of her trudging through the icy rain, with a wounded heart maddened him. She felt things deeply—too deeply. Erik wanted to be with her during her time of grief.

Sighing heavily, he massaged his cramped fingers and frowned. His business wasn't the only thing that had been suffering since her absence. The music he composed had taken on a dark and ugly tone of angst and frustration. He would often forego sleep as he played through the night while searching for a bit of elusive satisfaction. When she had left, she had taken with her his joy and peace.

The insomnia had returned. He was spending his nights and days roaming Paris, looking for clues of her whereabouts, and devising new plans for how to find her. The rest of his needs had taken a back seat to this one—the need to have her back in his life.

Lifting his chin, he stared at the approaching train terminus with renewed determination.

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Three days earlier, Jade had opened her eyes to a worthless, gray day.

It was Sunday. She needed to go to mass. After dressing, she sluggishly descended the stairs to the street below, and walked slowly to the church. There were others like her traveling purposely to church, or to the local cafes. Jade ignored them, and set her mind on her task of fulfilling her spiritual duty. It was a mortal sin to miss mass on this day. Her soul was already wounded and didn't need the threat of hell fire on top of everything else. Normally, she would have welcomed the peace and beauty that the mass provided. But today, it was just another onerous task that forced her to be away from her bed when all she wanted to do was to sleep.

On arriving, she didn't slip into the loft as was her usual custom. Instead, she sat at the back of the church with people crowded around her. The priest's voice droned on, and the woman next to her would periodically snort and jerk her head when she nodded off. When it was time for communion, Jade distantly watched the people line up before the rail. Once the service was finished, she let the crowd carry her out of the church. With indifference, she tolerated the jostling of her fellow church goers who were eager to leave. For the first time in months, she didn't bother to check around her for spying eyes.

On the way back to her room, she stepped into a local café, where she purchased a loaf of bread and a piece of cheese. Carrying it back to her room, she returned to her bed. Being outside had caused a chill, so she shivered for awhile before attempting to eat. She wasn't hungry but knew that she must try to get something inside of her, since she hadn't eaten the day before. After forcing herself to swallow several bites, her stomach rebelled, and heaved it back up.

As she lay there with a cramping stomach, she dully thought of what she should do next. All her reasons for being in Paris had disappeared. She no longer needed to be in this part of France to visit Gillian since she was gone.

_Dead, _she thought._ I might as well say it. She's not gone, she's dead._

Listlessly she gazed at the dresser where Gillian's present lay, and wondered what else there was to look forward to.

_I have friends, _she considered. Yes, they were still here. Perhaps it was time to go to them. For all she knew, Erik had given up on trying to find her a long time ago. He had probably found a replacement for her by now, some one else from the opera house. Her mind meandered over the dancers as she thought of who would be his next choice. There was a very pretty, new dancer with dark hair and a willowy body…

With some effort, she brought her mind back in focus. _Tomorrow, _she thought. _I can go to Jean and Manette's tomorrow._

But what if her assumption was wrong? What if Erik was even angrier now then when she had left? If she involved her friends, he might punish them.

Shaking her head, she realized that she was too tired to think straight. Besides, she didn't want to think about anything. Not about friends, Paris, or Erik…

Sinking deeper into the bed, she tucked the cloak around her, and drifted into sleep.

0000

The next day, she awoke feeling very chilled and sick to her stomach. After using the water closet, she went back to bed, and listened to the rain beating on the small window in her chilly room. There was no point in going to the shop today to get more work. She was too sick to work anyway. She would go tomorrow.

Jade lay there and stared at the gray walls of her room, and kept her chilled hands under the cashmere cloak. She felt bone tired. The thought of leaving her room made her feel even sicker. At that moment, the best feeling she could muster was a sleep driven numbness. The room was paid up until the end of the month. If she couldn't work for a few days, she could always dip into her savings. After several hours of bleak musings, she shut her eyes and fell back to sleep.

Over the next few days, she ate some of the bread and cheese, made visits to the water closet, and did her best to stay warm. The time was spent in bed, either staring at the ceiling and walls, or at the window. Days slipped into nights and then back until she lost all sense of time. One evening, there was a knock on her door.

Opening it, Jade looked into the concerned eyes of Mme. Pissaro.

"Good evening, my dear. I haven't seen you since last Thursday. How are you feeling?" the woman asked.

Staring at her for a moment, Jade tried to make sense of what she was saying. Was it really Thursday? It seemed as if she had just gone to church yesterday.

"I'm fine, Mme. Pissaro," she said quietly.

The older woman leaned forward a little, and smiled brightly at Jade. Having left her warm room below, she was wearing one of her colorful, woolen shawls. She was a breath of life in the dark, upper halls of the building.

"Would you like a cup of tea, my dear? I could bring a pot up here to your room if you'd like."

Nodding, Jade left the door ajar, and lit the lamp. Then she sat on the edge of her bed, and absently stared at her worn chemise. It was grimed with the ink of the newspapers that she stuffed beneath it for warmth. Getting up, she put on a cloak to rid herself of the chill that had gripped her thin body.

Fifteen minutes later, the older woman carried the tray up the stairs to Jade's room. Jade heard the rustle of her skirts as she bustled down the hall. Pouring a cup of the hot beverage, Madame carefully handed it to the younger woman. She sat on the only chair in the bedroom, and watched as Jade slowly sipped her tea.

Mme. Pissaro stifled the urge to stare at the woman. She almost didn't recognize her. With dark circles under her eyes and wild, uncombed hair, Jade looked like one of the lost souls she saw on the street. The self composed woman that she was accustomed to had vanished.

She talked about the week's events in an attempt to spark some life in the woman. After ten minutes, she stopped. Jade wasn't paying attention. Her eyes were dull, and she looked right through her as if she wasn't there.

Lifting up the tea tray, the gray haired woman left, and then returned a few minutes later with a thick blanket. It was very cold up in her young friend's room. She had had no idea that Jade's room was that uncomfortable. She could spare the blanket until the woman felt better.

Laying the cover over her, Mme. Pissaro looked down at the dark haired woman for a few moments. Then impulsively, she bent over her, and kissed her forehead. "Good night, my dear," she said softly. She locked the door, and slipped the key beneath it.

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The next few days were the same as the previous ones. Jade would get up, use the water closet, wash her face, bring water back to her room, and then climb back into bed. It was all one, unending cycle. In the back of her mind, she knew that she needed to go to work, that the money wouldn't last forever. Emptily staring at the green gown, she wondered how much she could pawn it for. She didn't have the strength or the heart to do it herself but perhaps the next time Mme. Pisssaro visited her, she could persuade her to sell it for her. She might be able to live on that money for a couple of weeks.

Sunday came and went. By then, Jade was unaware of which day was which. She continued to sleep, and live in her dreams.

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Madame Pissaro gazed up the flight of stairs to the dark hall beyond. It was Wednesday evening. She was wondering if she should go upstairs and check on her friend. It had been four days since she had last seen her. She had hoped that by now, Jade would have been feeling better, and would have been back to her normal routine. But she had a sinking feeling that the young woman was still upstairs, stuck in her room.

This wasn't the first time that she had seen a serious case of melancholy. She remembered when her sister had lost her newborn, and how she had behaved afterwards. Louise had refused to speak with her family, and had withdrawn from everyone, including her grief stricken husband. It had been a devastating experience to witness her deterioration.

Now here was another who had succumbed to that affliction. Mme. Pissaro nervously glanced up the stairs, and wondered what was to be done.

Entering her apartment, she loaded a tray with food and tea, and slowly carried it up the stairs to Jade's room. She knocked on the door several times and then listened. There was no response. Perhaps Jade had finally gone out. But her instincts said 'no'. She set the tray down, and walked below to the concierge's apartment. Once there, she talked the woman into coming upstairs with her, and opening her friend's door.

The room was dark and icy. The concierge held the lamp out in front of her, and the light fell on the still figure lying on the bed. Madame Pissaro gasped as she stared at the eerie, quiet form whose back was to them. There was a feeling of death in the air.

Slowly, she approached the bed, and tentatively reached out and touched the small figure. The other woman stood behind her, and held the light up so that they both could see. Madame Pissaro pulled Jade's shoulder, and rolled her onto her back.

The young woman was unaware of them, lost in an unnaturally deep sleep. Her skin was pale and her lips cracked. The large, dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hollow cheeks gave her a spectral appearance. She had the sour smell of someone who hadn't washed for some time, and her hair was oily. The concierge reached beneath the bed, and pulled out a full chamber pot.

Glancing about the room, Mme. Pissaro saw the half loaf of stale bread, and wondered when Jade had last eaten. The other woman gave her a firm look, and jerked her head towards the door in a signal that they step outside.

In the hall, the two women discussed what they had seen. Were there relatives? The concierge wanted to know. Mme. Pissaro shook her head. "No one," she replied. Shrugging off the responsibility, the concierge handed the other woman the key, and waddled back towards her room.

Standing alone in the hall, the gray haired woman stared into the dark room, and then finally shut the door. She needed to think.

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A half hour later, she returned to Jade's room with a basin of water and towels. Then she bathed her. Afterwards, she gave her water, and tried to get a little broth into her. Returning to her own room, she immediately sat down, and wrote a letter to Etienne Coupeau, asking that he contact the man who had spoken with Jade at the holiday party—a M. de Chagny. Perhaps he would be willing to help the poor woman.

It was the only plan that she could think of.

An hour later she was combing out her hair for the night when she heard a knock on her door. Opening it, she looked up at the kind face of a brown haired man who was holding his hat in his hands.

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Earlier that day Jules was in his office as he interviewed the last of the cab drivers. He had spent a week tracking down each worker at the train terminus as well as an army of drivers. Besides those he had spoken with, he had also retrieved the names of several missing men. Today those last drivers had come to his office.

So far, there had been no leads as to Jade's whereabouts. No one had recognized the thumbnail sketches that Erik had provided.

Jules turned to the scruffy young driver who had shown up half an hour before. _He's here for the stipend, _he thought. _Just like the rest of them. Well, at least the flow of cash will stop after today. _He was weary of handing out money to every man that had showed up at the office in the last week. He suspected that more than a few had no association with the train station and were simply there to milk the system.

By the time he got around to the young driver, he was tired and irritable.

"Monsieur Madinier, is it?" he brusquely asked the thin man who sat before him.

"Yes Monsieur," the man answered with a saucy tone.

Jules looked up from his paper with a frown. "You were driving a cab at the Gare Montparnasse the Saturday before last?" he asked sharply.

The driver took his time answering as he coolly watched Jules. "I was there, Monsieur."

Again, there was that rude tone that grated on Jules' nerves. The fellow had come down to the office to play games with him as he earned a little drinking money.

Abruptly pushing the sketch of Jade across the desk towards the fellow, Jules asked, "Did you see this woman on that day?"

Madinier looked down at the sketch for a few moments, and then raised his eyes to the man. His thin lips parted in a slow, insolent smile. "There is something familiar about this woman. Perhaps you will tell me what the reward is for information about her?"

Quickly, Jules pulled the sketch back, and glared at the man. It had been like this all day. The stragglers that had shown up at the office had heard of the rich reward that Erik was offering. They all wanted a free suckle off of a wealthy tit. But this bastard was cheekier than the rest.

Showing his teeth, the man gauged Jules' reaction, and then slowly continued. "I had a fare late that afternoon. It might have been that woman."

"To where?" snapped Jules.

Madinier feigned interest in a painting on the wall, and then finally turned his eyes to the man sitting across from him. "I believe it was to the east side, Monsieur."

After a moment of staring into those calculating eyes, Jules got up and walked around the desk where he stood at the side of the seated man. Then he spoke in a low voice. "Do you see that door behind my desk, Monsieur?" he asked as he cocked his head in that direction. He followed the quick dart of the younger man's eyes, and then continued. "Behind it is my employer. It is he who has offered the reward for this information. He is a wealthy man, and like so many of his class, he has little patience with men who wish to rob him or trifle with his affairs."

Jules was smiling a false smile when he sat on the desk, and faced the man.

"He is generous with those who give him what he wants. But, for those who would lie to him or try to squeeze him for more than their just desserts, he has something else." Pausing for effect, Jules continued. "Have you seen the guillotine do its work, my friend? She is quick and ruthless."

The man before him had stopped smiling, and his eyes widened a hair at the mention of that national symbol. Jules held his gaze with a penetrating stare.

"Personally, I would rather face that steel lady before I would attempt to cross that man behind the door. Now, if you have information, I suggest you spill it or I will be forced to lead you to him." He leaned towards the man and whispered, "Even as we speak, I am certain that he hears what we are saying." He gave Madinier a knowing look, and returned to his seat.

Jules wasn't much of an actor. However, knowing what Erik was capable of made it easy for him to deliver his threat.

The young man had lost his smirk, and was watching Jules closely. "I took her to the tenth arrondissement," he offered.

Jules stared at him coolly. "Do you know the exact address?"

He was surprised to see the man nod assent.

"Yes. After I dropped her off, a fight began in the street in front of me. I watched it for a few minutes as I ate my dinner. Later, some of his friends carried the wounded man into the building that she had gone into."

Eyeing the man, Jules rose and said, "Wait here."

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Erik rode inside as Jules drove the carriage, and followed the cab in front of them. They were traveling through the tenth arrondissement in the direction of the Cemetery of Pere-Lachaise. Around them loomed the tenement houses of Paris's working class.

The rain had finally stopped, and for once the night wasn't unbearably wet or cold. The half moon lit up the dirty streets, and revealed an occasional prostitute standing under a soot smeared gas lamp as she waited for a profitable encounter. As the carriage slid past shuttered shops and down narrow streets, Erik remembered his time in this part of Paris. Before the opera house had been constructed, these streets had been his last refuge. The ever present poverty and his ready money had allowed him easy access to housing. But it had been a dismal life, a cruel reminder of the stigma caused by his mask.

The carriage finally stopped in a small plaza that was surrounded by tenement houses. Erik listened to the brief exchange between Jules and the cab driver, and then heard the driver depart.

An electric pulse ran through him as he exited the carriage, and watched as Jules approached the building that was straight ahead.

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"May I help you Monsieur?" the older woman asked the man standing at her door.

"If you please, Madame, I am looking for a woman. Her name is Jade Bouta. I have been told that she lives in this building."

Mme. Pissaro looked at him with sharp eyes.

Smiling gently, Jules continued. "I have information for her that is very important."

There was something wholesome about the man's disarming smile and politeness. The woman opened the door and invited him in. As she bound up her hair, she watched him from the mirror. He was sitting in a chair, and quietly staring at his hat which was in his lap. The longer she looked at him, the more certain she felt that her prayer had been answered.

Taking a seat across from him, she said, "Mlle. Bouta has not been herself lately. She is feeling rather poorly at this time." She watched for his response.

The man's eyes widened with dismay, and he said, "Madame is there anything that I can do to help?"

Nodding slowly, Mme. Pissaro picked up a key from her table. Rising, she motioned for him to follow.

They walked the stairs to Jade's room where the woman unlocked and opened the door.

The room was as she had left it—dark, and very cold. Jade still lay on her back in the same position she was in an hour before. Her eyes were shut, and she was breathing very slowly.

Jules stared at the sleeping woman for a few moments, and then turned to his companion. "She looks very ill. Has a doctor been called?" he asked quietly.

Shaking her head, Mme. Pissaro replied, "No, Monsieur." Then she turned to him and asked, "Is there someone who can help her? I don't believe she has family in Paris."

Jules nodded slowly and replied, "I know of someone who will take care of her. I will arrange for it immediately." He reached out and took her hands in his, and pressed them gently. "Rest assured, she will be in good hands, Madame."

They descended the stairs together, and Jules stepped out of the building. Quickly, he walked to the carriage where Erik waited. The white mask emerged from the blackness as Erik stepped from behind the carriage.

"I found her," Jules said.

The two men swiftly mounted the stairs to Jade's room. There, Erik deftly picked the lock and they slipped in. Jules lit the lamp, and turned to the tall man who was standing over the bed.

Erik was frozen in place, and staring at the haggard looking woman who lay there oblivious to their presence. Jules held his breath and waited.

"I will meet you in the carriage, Jules," Erik said in a low, controlled voice.

Glancing around him, Jules saw the green dress which was draped over a wooden pole that was suspended from the ceiling by string. He reached up and removed it, and then left.

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With his eyes fixed on Jade's face, Erik slowly sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, he gently ran his fingers along her brow, and then across her hollow cheek. Underneath the mound of cloaks and heavy blanket he could feel the bony curve of a shoulder.

"You have grown very thin, my dear," he said softly as he stroked the line of her arm.

He waited for her to open her eyes in response to his voice and touch. When she didn't, he bent down and softly kissed her forehead. Then reaching under the blanket, he gathered her into his arms.

Wrapping the cloaks tightly around her, he carried her out of the room, and shut the door. Then he descended the stairs to the street below.

Jules was seated in the driver's seat and waiting. Once Erik had entered the carriage, he snapped the reins and the horse moved into the night.

Inside, Erik held Jade in his arms. She had yet to stir, and become aware of his presence. If it hadn't been for her slow breathing, he would have sworn that she had already fled the earth and was sleeping with the angels. When he had carried her down the stairs, his heart had ached in response to her incredible lightness. She weighed little more than a child.

"Foolish girl," he murmured to her as he watched the moonlight slip across her face. Whatever wasting away that had resulted because of her discovery of the child's death, it was evident that she had been depriving herself long before that. Her thinness was frightening. She had probably been up to her old, bad habits of missing meals when she was upset. Or worse yet, maybe she had simply not eaten because of her impoverished state.

That last thought brought grim tears to his eyes as he gazed at her gaunt face. He was partly responsible for the state that she was in. If he hadn't driven her away with his anger, and if he hadn't repeatedly forced his presence upon her when she had lived in the opera house, she wouldn't have hid from him. She could have remained there with shelter and adequate food. And when she had finally discovered the child's death, the blow would not have caused her as much harm.

But, he knew as well as she that he wouldn't have been able to stay away from her if she had remained. If she had tried to separate from him, it would have inevitably caused him to seek her out. His need for contact with her was too strong. Once the barriers between them had been lowered, he could not bear to have them resurrected.

Bringing her to his chest he held her close. She was in bad shape but was not past the point of recovery.

The oily smell of her hair filled his nostrils. There was a sharp scent of soap about her, as if she had recently been bathed. She felt like a sparrow in his arms, a delicate bird that might escape his grasp if he held her too lightly, but would be crushed if his grip was carelessly firm. As he held her life carefully in his arms, he felt joined to her, and his mind settled into a quiet peace.

The carriage stopped in front of the iron-gate. With his black cloak swept back, Erik carried the bundled woman through the opening to the blackness beyond. Jules laid the velvet gown across the floor of the boat, and Erik gently lowered Jade onto it. Then Jules shut the gate and the heavy clanking of metal followed the man and woman into the darkness.

Swiftly, he propelled the boat to his home. On entering it, the heated air was a welcoming sensation as he glanced down at her pale face. He carried her past the kitchen to the bedrooms. There he paused as he looked at both bedroom doors. Decisively, he took her to his bed where he placed her under the covers.

With his hands at his sides, Erik stared down at her small face which was surrounded by the heap of soft blankets. Removing his gloves, he laid his hand on her cheek. It was unusually cool. He suddenly remembered how chilled the body could get when it was underfed and close to starvation. Quickly, he shed his suit coat and waistcoat, and then climbed in beside her. Pulling her close to him, he pushed the cloaks aside and wrapped his arms around her. Then he balanced her so that her head rested against his chest. Gently he arranged the blanket so that she was almost completely covered.

With one hand cradling the back of her head, he felt her warm, even breath against his neck. A shiver ran through him as his body welcomed the intimacy of that moment. After one long breath, he slowly exhaled and pulled her closer.

It was late, and he was tired. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she had left. Now, with her beside him, he let go of the tension and relentless drive that had kept him moving and searching for the last two months. Gently, he drifted into sleep as he held his prize in his arms.

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**A/N: The reference to Erik once living in a poor part of Paris is taken from Susan Kay's novel Phantom.**


	44. Chapter 44 Awakening

**A/N: from here on, M rated material will occasionally be appearing in this story. **

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**Chapter 44 Awakening**

Several hours later, Erik awoke, and opened his eyes to the woman who was lying in his arms.

It hadn't been a dream. He had found her.

Lying on his side, he looked down at the dark mass of hair, and watched the slow movement of her shoulder as it rose and fell with her breathing. His right arm had gotten a little numb from the pressure of her weight upon it—it was beginning to tingle with a pins and needles sensation. Carefully, he worked it out from beneath her.

Sitting up, he gazed at the top of her head which peeked out from the covers. With his left hand he gently stroked her hair. It was heavy under his touch, and hid the pale, thin face that lay beneath it. _She still has a full head of hair,_ he mulled with some relief. It was a sign that she hadn't reached the point of starvation.

Reaching under the covers, he touched her cheek. Her chill had disappeared. Their physical contact over the last few hours had warmed her.

Erik smiled wryly at that. _After all you've endured on my account, I'm still good for you, my dear,_ he thought with a little sadness.

Now that she was warm, it was time to bring her back to the living. But first…

Burrowing under the covers, he pulled her to him. As he held her tenderly in his arms, he couldn't get over how delicious it felt to have her against him. Her presence was balm to his soul.

She was as weak as a kitten, bone thin, and lost in sleep. And for now, she was completely his.

Savoring the moment, he stroked her back with a comforting motion. He could feel the small knobs of her spine against his palm as he slowly pressed her against himself. The sensation of her soft breasts touching his chest caused him to gasp, and shut his eyes with pleasure. He had a sudden urge to bury his face in them but he resisted. She was fragile and needed him for something else.

Regretfully, he released her and got out of bed.

Standing in his kitchen, Erik thoughtfully stared at his pantry. Then he pulled out several items—honey, oil, dried milk, and carefully measured each before mixing them together. Her first meals would be important. She hadn't reached the point of starvation but she still needed to be fed carefully to avoid making her sick. A thin soup with herbal teas would be a good start.

He carried the bowl of food and a pitcher of doctored water to the bedroom, and set it down. Standing over the bed, he studied his charge. She was still sleeping deeply. His first task would be to awaken her. Removing the covers, he wrapped her in a blanket, and cradled her in his arms.

Before coming to Paris, Erik had traveled Europe, Africa, and the Far East where he had picked up a fair amount of healing knowledge. In the East, he had learned an ancient technique that used needles to stimulate the body. Now he used his fingernail to firmly press a point between her nose and upper lip which would help her to return to consciousness. After a minute, she took in a deep breath, and slowly opened her eyes.

Jade stared up at him with an unseeing gaze. Carefully, he spooned a little food into her and waited. After she swallowed it, her mouth automatically opened for more. Erik smiled, and gradually gave her the rest. When she was finished, he laid her back in the bed and joined her.

Her limbs had softened, and she fit nicely against the front of his body as he held her from behind.

Over the next few days, he carefully fed her, and tended to her needs. In between, he held her in his arms and sang to her. He sang the folk songs his rival had sung to her by the Seine, and added others from around the world—lullabies, ballads, and arias.

She grew stronger, and moved from the deep, trance like sleep into a lighter rest. Now she faced him as she slept, and seemed to be responding to his presence. If he made a motion to leave the bed, she would instinctively move towards him. The first time she did it, his heart sped up with delight. She needed him.

After several days, he carried her to the bath to wash her hair. Laying her gently on warm towels, he carefully shampooed her hair over the tub, and rinsed it. It took a bit of work to get all the soap out of those thick tresses. After a good toweling, he combed it out.

As he worked with her hair, he recalled the times he had stood by the mirror, and watched as women brushed and smoothed their hair. On occasion, a lover would enter, and Erik would linger for awhile, just to see eager hands rake through glossy strands. Christine's hair had been beautiful, with her abundance of chestnut curls. He would have liked to have touched it. But the one time he had brought her to his home, there had been other things between them that had required his attention. And when he had left her alone in his bed on that night, he had thought that there would be many more nights ahead in which he would be able to explore all of his hidden desires. How wrong he had been!

Erik gazed lovingly at Jade as he gently ran the comb through her thick mane. She was still terribly thin, but there were signs that her health was returning. In the last few days, the dark circles under her eyes had faded, and her skin had lost the dry roughness as it acquired a healthy sheen.

When he finished, he laid her on the bed, and smiled at the lovely picture that she presented. When her hair dried, it would fluff up into a cloud of unruly, soft brilliance, and he was eager to watch the transformation. She looked beautiful against the sheets with her silk chemise, and her hair spread across the pillow. He sat on the edge of the bed, and lightly stroked her arm.

She was improving with each passing day. Soon she would shake off her dreams and return to him fully aware. Then he would have to return her to her room.

Staring down at her, he wished there was a way to delay that moment. He wanted to hold her whenever he wished.

As Erik watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he suddenly had an impulse to get closer to her. Roughly, he pulled off his shirt, and slid into bed.

Pulling her to himself, he shivered as her silk garment brushed his bare shin. He guided her face to his chest, and pretended that she had come to him and wanted his touch. His imaginings caused his groin to tighten, and soon he was fully erect. He pulled her closer, and carefully rubbed his hardness against her. The pleasure was enormous, and he had to restrain his urge to ejaculate. He knew he was using her at that moment but he couldn't stop. The raw pleasure was irresistible.

Trembling, he buried his face in her hair. She let out a small whimper, and the sound set off an electric pulse along his spine.

Clenching his teeth, he eased back, and then kissed her hair. Her lips were just below his chin. What would it be like if he were to steal a kiss? Would it awaken her if he pressed his lips against hers? And if so, would she turn away or welcome deeper intimacies? He needed to know how close he could get to her.

His hands traveled to her breasts, and he gently squeezed them. How unbelievably soft they were! In response to his touch, she moaned softly, and his groin throbbed in near release. Regretfully, he withdrew his hands. This was a pleasurable game, but he wouldn't let it lead to a climax.

Pulling away, Erik breathed deeply for a few minutes and calmed himself. Then he gingerly took her in his arms and sang to her. That gentle act helped distract him from his need, and soothed his excitement. Eventually he drifted off to sleep with her in his arms.

When he awoke, she was still asleep. He carefully removed her hands from his chest and left the bed.

He'd had a dream in which she'd awakened, and had come to him pleading for his touch. He had kissed her deeply and then penetrated her just as he had seen others do with their lovers in the opera house.

Now he had an erection, and needed to release it. If he stayed in the bed, he'd be tempted to take more liberties with her, which he refused to do.

Moving to the front room, he lay on the divan and began to touch himself. It started slowly, with a caress as soft as a silk chemise against his skin. Jade yielded to his need as he pulled her close. He entered her, and her eyes fixed on his. Faster he stroked his shaft, in rhythm with her small body moving beneath his. Deeper he penetrated her as he watched her pleasure grow. Reaching down, he pulled her face to his, and captured her lips while continuing his thrusting. After kissing her deeply, her mouth suddenly fixed on his and devoured him in a possessive kiss, causing him to explode inside of her.

His release was intense, and he moaned under the onslaught of the stimulation. Then he lay there for long, languorous minutes until he recovered enough to get up.

Erik ran a bath, and slipped into the warm liquid. Even though he had tamed his erection he still felt the urge to go to her. The mere thought of her set up another ache in his groin. An insatiable hunger had begun.

As he lounged in the water, he thought of the last several days and the deep satisfaction that they had provided. Part of him wanted her to stay as she was, to never return to her fully conscious self. As long as she slept, she was his. When she awoke, she would separate from him and possibly wish to leave his home.

He fantasized about what could be done to keep her there. He could build a wall so that she couldn't escape through the cave. He could hide the boat between trips. Perhaps he could enslave her with his voice so that she would never wish to go. Or he could drug her and keep her forever—a chained soul who only awoke when she responded to his touch.

His need was great.

But what of her needs? What of her need for freedom, for the sunlight above, for the feel of a soft breeze on her skin? Could he deny her those necessities?

Erik looked down, and groaned as he felt another erection arise. The bath wasn't helping, and his thoughts were goading him on.

Emerging from the water, he dried himself, and walked to the kitchen. There he prepared a medicinal tea—a drink he had used before to quench his desire. It had the additional effect of calming nerves and inducing sleep. It would also make him feel inordinately groggy when he awoke so he didn't like to use it unless it was absolutely necessary.

After several cups of the brew, he returned to the bedroom, and stood over the bed. Jade was lying on her side, facing him. Erik studied her for a few moments before returning to his place beside her. He gathered her into his arms, and pressed his face into her hair, grateful that the fire below had been quenched. Then he drifted off to sleep.

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Jade turned on her side and reached for the warmth but it was gone. Her eyes opened, and she stared at the empty space beside her. Something was missing.

Turning on her back, she followed the shadow play on the ceiling. There was something different about this room. It took her a few moments to realize that she was not in the cold, dreary room of the tenement house, nor in her chilly bedroom at the Opera Populaire. She turned on her side and stared at her surroundings for a minute before she figured out where she was.

The architecture was familiar, and she knew that she was inside of Erik's home.

Confused, she tried to remember what had happened. The last thing she could recall was Madame Pissaro coming to her door, and asking to come in for a visit, and her turning the woman away. The rest was a blank.

Straining, she finally remembered that she had been living away from the opera house for some time and hiding from Erik. But on reflection, she couldn't really place when all that had occurred. It seemed ages ago.

Since that time, she had traveled far and wide in her dreams. She had ridden the horses a hundred times, had had countless meals with her friends, and had walked the beloved hills of her childhood home. And in between, there had been Erik.

He had come to her not as the angry Opera Ghost but as the kind, intelligent man who taught her things from his books. And when they weren't talking, he was singing to her beautiful songs. Shutting her eyes, she remembered the warmth of his embrace. He had held her in her dreams.

Jade turned her eyes to the bed, and reached out to the depression in the mattress at her side. He had been there with her, but now he was gone.

Struggling, she tried to raise herself up, and was astonished at how weak she was. What had happened to her?

Lying back, she remembered the pain in her stomach when she had eaten the bread, and how she had vomited it. Then there was the bitter cold. Gradually, it all came back to her. Gillian had died and she had lost her desire to live.

The thought of the child brought tears to her eyes, and she started to cry. After awhile, she sighed deeply, and traveled back to the time shortly after Jean-Luc's death.

When he had died, she had retreated to her room and refused to come out. All she had wanted to do was to sleep. But unlike this last episode of melancholy, her mother had been there and had tended to her. The woman who had ignored and neglected her for years had suddenly come alive, and refused to let her daughter slip away. She had planted herself in Jade's room and had talked to her, sang to her, read books, and held her in her arms. She had fought the illness, and under her loving care, Jade had eventually returned and come back to life.

Blinking, Jade tried to penetrate the blur of recent events. There was a thick fog between now and Gillian's death. The only thing she felt certain of was that Erik had somehow found her. His warmth and smell were all around her. The angry Opera Ghost had disappeared and her friend had returned.

In some way, he had taken the place of her mother.

Sighing, she turned on her side, and stared at the door to the bedroom. She wondered where he was at the moment. Suddenly, she felt lonely, and she wanted him to return.

As if in answer to her thoughts, she heard the faintest rustle in the hall outside the bedroom.

Feigning sleep, she shut her eyes, and peered out from under her lashes as he came through the door. Slowly, he approached the bed and stood over her for a minute. Her heart started to race as she wondered if he could tell that she was awake. She willed her breathing to remain calm and even. Then he stepped away, and entered the bed from the other side. A moment later his arms were around her as he pulled her to him. He turned her over so that she was nestled against his chest, and she felt his face press into her hair. After a few minutes, his breath softened and deepened, and she knew he was asleep.

Jade waited for awhile until she was certain that he was deeply asleep, and then she carefully pulled back. With some effort she raised herself up, and looked down at him.

The right side of his face was pressed into the bed and the unmasked part was completely exposed to her gaze. His face had softened and his mouth was slightly open. Without the normal tension and control that resided in his features, he had taken on a boyish, innocent appearance. For the first time, she saw a child like openness that belied his age. His lips were full, pink and fascinating. Before she realized what she was doing, she lowered her face to his, and hovered close to his open mouth. She inhaled his warm breath, and smelled the acrid odor of the tea he had drunk only minutes before.

Staring at him, it came to her that she was there in his bed because he wanted her to be with him.

Lowering herself onto the pillow, she watched him, and listened to the musical hiss of his breathing. With each exhalation, her heart stirred until it was brimming over with feeling. Shutting her eyes, she softly placed her hand on his chest and followed its rise and fall with wonder. She had never felt this before, this hushed awe in the presence of another.

She decided that it would be best to wait a little while before speaking about her feelings. Erik was being incredibly kind to her, but it could change. Tomorrow he could look at her again with that cool, stern look. Or he might get angry and punish her with another of his tricks. Everything could change the moment that he awoke.

She glanced at his face and felt a renewed sense of wonder at its softness and the peace that she had never seen before. Was he always like this when he slept?

As she pressed closer to him, his arms automatically tightened about her and pulled her to him. Jade sighed, and soon fell back to sleep.

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It was the sound of the organ that awoke her.

The music was beautiful, and soothing. She listened to it for awhile, and decided that it was time to rise.

Pushing herself up, she struggled to get out of bed. Her muscles were rubbery and trembled from the effort. Next to the bed was a soft cotton robe which she put on. Then she swung her legs to the floor and tried to stand.

With her first effort, she fell. She pushed herself up and tried again, and managed to get as far as the door before having to sit and rest.

After several minutes, she made it to the kitchen, and crawled to the door. Pulling herself up, she sat with her back against the door frame, and stared into the front room.

Erik was seated at the organ playing. He was dressed in his black pants and white linen shirt that opened in the front. He appeared to be lost in his music.

Jade listened to the tender melody, which gave her strength. After a half hour, she rose, and walked unsteadily in his direction. She felt certain that she could make it to the dais. With faltering steps she approached the man who hovered over the keys. When she was a scant six feet away, he stopped and his eyes met hers in the mirror.

Inhaling deeply, she walked towards him until she managed to reach his side. Erik stared at her intently from the mirror, and as she had expected, the guarded look returned to his face when she reached of him.

Ignoring his distrust, she wavered at his left side, and tried to keep her balance as she forced her wobbling legs to obey her. Then she carefully lowered herself until she was resting on her knees. His long thigh was before her, at the level of her waist. She placed her hands on it to steady herself, and then slowly lowered her head until her right cheek rested on his leg. Letting out a long sigh, she shut her eyes and relished the contact.

A moment later, Erik's hand was on her head as it gently stroked her hair. His soothing attentions continued as she knelt there for awhile and lost track of time.

Eventually, her legs became numb. As she shifted, a small groan escaped her.

Immediately, he was off the bench, and had lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the hall where the bedrooms were, and paused for a moment. Then he carried her to her bedroom, and gently laid her on the bed.

Jade gazed up at his face which had taken on a cool expression. The young man who had lain next to her earlier was gone, replaced by a more distant fellow. Her eyes fell to his beautiful hands and that warm feeling of awe returned to her.

She wanted to say something that would make him stay. But words failed her so she stared up at him silently and waited.

After a few moments, Erik turned away and left the room.


	45. Chapter 45 Decision

**Chapter 45 Decision**

After a half hour of silence, Jade rose from her bed, and looked down the hall.

The candle light from adjacent rooms hung in the open doorways, and struggled weakly with the darkness. A steady glow of golden light blazed from Erik's bedroom.

Withdrawing to her comfortable room, she spent the next hour reading, and walking about. During her stroll, she noticed that the painting of Gillian had been removed from the room. Standing in front of that bleak patch of wall, she wondered where it had gone.

An hour later, she was finally tired enough to sleep. Relieved, she crawled under the blankets, and returned to her dreams.

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Hours later, she awoke to a silent house. Restless, she left her room, and walked down the hall.

Erik's door was closed, and she assumed that he was asleep.

The bright light of the front room glistened off the polished table as Jade sat down with her book and piece of fruit. She was about to take a bite when a faint noise alerted her to his presence. Glancing up, she saw Erik approaching her with a smooth step.

"It is good to see you up, my dear," he said graciously, as he took a seat across from her. Stretching out his long legs, he narrowed his eyes slightly as he held her gaze.

He was casually dressed with a fresh linen shirt and dark trousers which complemented his powerful figure. His hair was impeccably combed, and tied back with a black ribbon.

Jade eyed him for a moment, and tried to gauge his mood.

"Are you ready for breakfast?" he asked as he looked pointedly at her meager meal.

She nodded, and watched as he returned to the kitchen. He had an exceptionally graceful carriage. Her eyes fell to his waist, and fixed on the controlled movements of his hips which gave him a pronounced sexual air. As he disappeared into the kitchen, she realized that she had been holding her breath.

Moments later he reappeared with a tray of food which he set on the table. Slowly and deliberately, he pushed the plate in front of her, and then sat back with a glass of wine as he watched her eat.

During her meal, she occasionally glanced at his hands. She was remembering the first time she had really seen them. It had been in the stable on the day that they'd met. He had crouched next to her as he tended the wounded stallion, and their sure, gentle movements had caught her attention in spite of her fear. Shortly after that, his hands had appeared in her dreams.

As she gazed at them, she reflected on how she had instinctively trusted his hands, even when she had feared and doubted the man.

Finishing her meal, Jade pushed her plate aside, and rose. "Thank you Erik," she said quietly as she met his eyes. Then she returned to her bedroom.

After shutting her door, she sat on an upholstered bench in front of the vanity mirror, and stared at her pale, thin face for a few minutes. Then she rose, walked to the floor length mirror, and pulled the velvet cloth from its front. Dropping her robe to the floor, she turned to the mirror.

The silk chemise clung to her spare frame, and exposed her angular, thin body. Turning around, she stared over her shoulder, and studied her back side in the mirror. Her bottom barely jutted out, which was different from the current rage in female beauty—a glorified derriere.

Fingering the thin fabric, she blushed when she thought of Erik putting it on her. Did she have any secrets from that man?

She returned to the bench, and swept her hair back, pinning it with several decorative combs. Again she stared into her green eyes, and studied her face.

She knew that she wasn't ugly, but she wasn't particularly pretty, either. It had never mattered before. Jean-Luc had loved her just the way she was. And for her part, she'd never cared much whether people around her were beautiful or homely. It was a good natured temperament and intelligence that she wanted from others.

Turning her head in profile, she looked down her nose, and gazed at her reflection from the side. _Nothing special here, _she concluded.

Sitting on the bed, and pulling her knees to her chest, she thought of Erik. Frowning, she recalled her conversation with Pierre on market day months before. Pierre had asked her about her new feelings for Erik, and she'd replied, "I won't love someone who doesn't love me." And she'd meant it. She'd seen her share of foolish women who pined for men who ignored or used them.

_Erik doesn't love me, _she pondered. _But he wants me for his mistress._

She was beginning to understand why he had refused to give up his search for her. She was an interesting oddity because of her dancing. And she was someone familiar, whom he trusted. He liked her, and had grown accustomed to her presence in his life.

He was a passionate man with physical needs. Erik couldn't have his diva, so she would have to do instead.

_If only it were that simple for me, _she thought sadly. Once she gave her heart, she wouldn't be able to take it back.

_I'm not special enough to hold his interest forever. _It would take an extraordinary woman to do that. She knew that she wasn't that woman. She wasn't Christine de Chagny.

Looking across the room, she spied her tiny reflection in the mirror—a thin woman with a pale face and burning eyes.

0000

The next few hours Jade spent in her room. She passed the time reading, and exercising her weak legs. Periodically she would stand by the closed door and listen. It was silent out there.

She was reading a passage from Plato when her door opened, and Erik stood before her with a tray of food.

"It is time for your lunch, my dear," he said firmly.

Setting the book aside, she looked curiously at the tray. There was a poached egg and a white shapeless mass with fruit preserves on top of it.

"What is this?" she asked as she tentatively poked at the white blob with a spoon.

"Fermented milk," Erik replied without bothering to look up at her as he stared at his book.

Jade ate as Erik read. Since he wasn't watching her every move, she occasionally looked at him. Her eyes traced the edge of the mask as she wondered when he had first worn it. There were things about him she suddenly wanted to know. Where had he grown up? What had his childhood been like? How did he come here to this place? When did he first fall in love with his diva?

The questions rattled in her mind, and piled on top of each other like a tower of books that swayed precariously. Jade wasn't in the habit of prying into people's lives, especially those who detested others' meddling. She had guarded her own secrets, and had a healthy respect for the privacy of others. Her new found curiosity about Erik felt strange.

Feeling a little groggy after her meal, she sat back and lazily looked about the room. Eventually her gaze rested on the spot where Gillian's portrait had once hung. Again she wondered what Erik had done with it.

She shut her eyes, and sadly remembered the child's face.

When she opened them, she was looking at Erik's mouth. Grateful for the distraction, she focused on his lips and studied their shape. As she gazed at them, they parted slightly. _He has sensual lips, _she mused. Even when he was stern, they were attractive. Compared to the rest of his features, they were soft looking, and seemed to invite intimacy. It had been a long time since she'd been kissed on the mouth by someone. Only Jean-Luc had done that.

Closing her eyes, she daydreamed of their nighttime rendezvous' when they would lie in the grass by the lake in each others' arms. It had been wonderful. Jean-Luc would linger over her, and shower her with endless, tender kisses. The last few months that they were together he had explored her mouth with his tongue in long sessions of passionate probing.

Her lips parted as she relived his excitement.

She had remained pure for their wedding night. After he'd died, Jade had deeply regretted that she hadn't loved him completely. If she'd known what was to pass, she wouldn't have cared what her parents, or the villagers, or the world thought.

Sighing, she opened her eyes to Erik's intense gaze. His eyes had darkened to a deep green, and they were burning into her. He was staring at her hungrily. _Like a starved man, _she thought.

After a long moment, Jade turned away, and went to the bed. Stretching out, she shut her eyes.

A few moments later, she looked in his direction, and saw that he had departed. _He moves like a cat, _she mused. Months ago, that would have disturbed her, but now she didn't think twice about it.

As she lay there, she meditated on Erik's aspects. There was the kind, attentive look he had when he was teaching her, and the cool distant one when he was annoyed with her. And there were occasional lapses of tenderness that slipped past his controlled façade. She smiled when she thought of the glorious way his face lit up while he was at his organ, as if he was having a private session with God. And then there was the sure, enveloping look he gave her when he sang to her as they crossed the lake—commanding her heart to listen.

Now she considered his hunger, which was deep and raw. It seared her. He might not love her, but his desire for her was consuming.

Rolling on to her side, she felt exhaustion mixed with sadness as she fell asleep.

0000

When Jade awoke, the candles had noticeably shortened, and she wondered what time it was. _I don't even know what day it is, _she thought as she stretched her arms over her head. It was always the same down here—eternal night.

Rising, she walked around her room, and wondered what Erik was up to. After a half hour, she went in search of him.

He was nowhere to be found—not in the front room, the kitchen, nor his bedroom. She glanced at the door to the outside, and considered going to the lake but then thought better of it.

After gazing at the organ, she went to it. She could see Erik softly touching its keys with the light gleaming around him. When she had first approached him earlier that day, he had been in his own world, wrapped in the beauty of his music. The moment she had stepped close to him, he had changed and become distrustful. Why?

Trailing her fingers along the bench, Jade sat down and faced the organ. Then she stretched her hands out, and placed them above the keys. Taking in a breath, she pretended to play as she had seen him do, her fingers hovering and unfurling, over the ivory. She remembered the melody, and replayed it precisely in her mind as she swayed her body in rhythm to it. When she was finished, she stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. A movement caught her eye, and she turned around.

Erik was sitting on the couch watching her. Quickly, Jade rose, and stepped away from the organ as he strode towards her. In a moment he was at her side, and towering over her.

"Would you like to learn how to play the organ, Jade?" he asked with a sultry voice.

Swallowing hard, she looked at him closely, and tried to determine his mood.

"I don't think I'd be very good at it," she replied as she edged away.

Erik stepped in front of her, and blocked her escape, as he looked intensely at her. _He doesn't seem angry, _she thought with some confusion. But he was acting strangely, and it was beginning to make her nervous.

After a moment, he stepped back and turned to the kitchen. "Your supper will soon be ready, my dear," he said casually as he lightly waved his hand towards the table. Dutifully, she went there and waited.

The meal was heartier than the last. Although she'd already eaten twice that day, Jade had a healthy appetite. Contentedly, she munched on her food, and sipped the small amount of wine that he had poured. Whenever she'd glance up at Erik, his eyes would be on her. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided that she wouldn't let it bother her. She had other things to consider.

Clearly, he had brought her here because he wanted her to be with him. But was she a guest or a prisoner? Did he expect her to give up her life above or would he allow her to eventually return to it? These were questions that need to be asked.

Erik cleared the table, and carried the dishes back to the kitchen. Again, her eyes followed him, but this time she felt a strange, new tingling between her thighs. His long legs moved well, and she looked at his derriere with a twinge of longing. With a quick shake of her head, she tried to dislodge the sudden thought of what he might look like without his pants. It seemed almost blasphemous to imagine that.

Settling on the couch, she opened her book of poetry and began to read. It was The Flowers of Evil by Baudelaire. The poet's images were strong, and gripping—a strange mix of lyricism with cutting cynicism. As she skimmed the passages, she couldn't help but think that if she had led the life planned by her parents, such a book would have never made it into her hands. But the possibility of that life had died when she had lost Jean-Luc. Since then, she had been adrift, forever moving, forever searching for a home.

Setting the book in her lap, she dreamily gazed into space. _What does it mean to have a home?_ she wondered. Was it really a place, or was it a feeling? For five years, Jean-Luc had been her home. And when she came to the opera house, and had first set eyes on Gillian, she had known in a flash that the little girl would become her world.

She was thinking about the rolling hills of vine country, and of dark horses when Erik sat down next to her, and began to read his book.

Jade waited a few minutes before looking up at him.

The left side of his face was in profile to her. He was aloof, and regal. Such a rugged look he had, as if he would overpower all opposition, and yield nothing! She wished that she could magically make the other side of him appear—the softer, more youthful person who had lain beside her earlier that day. That was the Erik who would listen to her, and understand.

"Erik…" she began. He turned to her, and gave her his full attention as his eyes penetrated hers.

"There is something that I must ask you." Jade paused. Studying his face, she noted the tension in his jaw and around his left eye.

Lifting her chin, she took a deep breath and asked, "When I am ready, will you take me back to the world above?"

She watched as the feelings swirled in his eyes. There was a brief turbulence, and then an icy stare set in. Erik lowered his book, and turned his body to her. She watched the tightening of his neck muscles and jaw, and a subtle stiffening of his shoulders. At that moment, she wished she had something to hold on to as she faced the storm that was about to blast her.

They locked eyes, and neither one blinked.

As Jade continued to stare into his growing coldness, she saw the loneliness and hunger that lay beneath it.

Suddenly, without a thought, she leaned towards him and took his hands. Then she brought them to her lips. She turned each one over and lovingly covered it with kisses. When she finished, she looked into his eyes.

He was staring at her, stunned. His anger had fled, and had left behind the rough edges of his pain. In response, her own eyes filled with tears as she firmly held his hands.

_He has to let me go, _she thought as the tears began to spill out. _Please Erik, for both of our sakes, let me go._

0000

Lying on her bed, Jade stared up at the canopy. She had been there for the last several hours since Erik had walked her to her room.

He hadn't answered her question directly, but his eyes had told her what she needed to know. When she was ready, he would release her.

She pondered over the vagaries of the human heart. After all these years, she had found another to love, and yet he couldn't love her back. His heart was chained, as hers had once been.

_If only you had stayed with me last night, Erik!_ When she had awoken from her dreams, his love had seemed so real to her. And then later in her bedroom, when he had stared down at her with that cool expression, the doubts had returned. He was drawn to her, but he didn't love her.

She got up and wandered around her room for awhile. Then she walked towards the kitchen. As she approached Erik's room, she saw him lying on his bed. He was turned with his back to her and breathing slowly, asleep.

Pausing at his door, she stared at his long, muscular body. The feelings that she had had all day returned. What would it be like if she were to give herself to him? Would it heal his old love, or would it embroil them in a greater tragedy?

Turning away, she moved to the front room. Settling on the couch, she tried to distract herself with poetry but it was useless. She couldn't concentrate.

Leaving the house, she went to the lake where she stood by the hidden shore. Jade listened to the soft lapping of the water in that black and eerie place. This was a strange world in which to hide. The thought of Erik being here alone wrung her heart. He deserved better.

In the future, she could still visit him here but she wondered if he'd want her to. He would no longer be satisfied with their old relationship.

For the first time, Jade saw things clearly. She realized that she had been mistaken about him. There had been no others before her. For nearly two years, Erik had been alone with only the memory of his lost diva to keep him company.

_A bitter companion,_ she reflected with sadness.

It was too chilly to stay there so she went back inside. Then she returned to the bedrooms.

Once again, she stood by his door and watched him. She didn't want to go back to her room. So instead, she sat on the floor with her back to the door frame, and gazed at the man on the bed. She wanted to get closer but she dared not enter his room without his permission. Her restless sadness lifted as she sat there, and listened to his breathing. Laying her head on her knees, she rested and eventually drifted off.

0000

Jade was lying in bed in the dark.

When she felt the soft touch of a hand stroking her hair, she turned over, and faced him.

The dim light from the hall had settled in his eyes, and lightly framed his face. He was lying on his right side next to her. She could barely make out the mask which was pressed into the bed.

It was a dream.

She couldn't have him in real life, but here she could do what she wished. Moving closer to him, she lightly touched his face.

Erik's lips softly met hers. They were as smooth and warm as she had imagined them. They slid across her mouth slowly, and then touched her nose and chin before returning to her lips. She sighed with delight, and opened her mouth in anticipation.

In answer to her plea, his tongue entered and stroked hers, while his lips closed around her mouth. His touch was wet, and lovely with playful thrusts and curious probing. She made a little sound of joy, and pushed her body against his. She wanted his arms around her. Immediately they surrounded her, and pulled her to him. Then his lips left hers, and he guided her face to his neck.

Instinctively, she mouthed the area with her lips and tongue. His scent was strong, and it drew her. She liked how his skin became slick from her mouth. He groaned and shuddered in response which made her more eager. Like a hungry infant, she suckled his neck as she clutched his shirt. After a minute, his arms released her, and his hands gently pulled her away for his neck. Then his mouth covered hers, and he kissed her deeply.

Somewhere, in that long kiss, she realized that it wasn't a dream. Erik was there with her, loving her with his mouth. The kiss continued and she lost herself in its intensity. It was a hungry, devouring kiss that ripped away their separation.

She had never been kissed like this before, with such need.

When he finished, he laid her head on his chest and held her tightly. His breathing was fast and hard, and she listened to its sawing rhythm with interest. Then she raised her head, and looked into his face.

"Erik?"

"What is it, my dear?" he replied hoarsely.

She paused for a moment, and then pushed ahead. "Will we become lovers now?" she asked quietly.

At that moment, Jade had made her decision. She wouldn't repeat the mistake that she had made with her first love. If Erik wanted her, she would love him completely.

His breathing slowed, and grew quiet as she settled in next to him and waited. Finally, he spoke.

"Jade, what would you like us to be?" he asked softly.

Without hesitation she answered, "Together."

The gentle stroking of her hair ceased, and Erik quickly rolled her on to her back. Before she could catch her breath, his lips were pressed to hers, and he was kissing her again.

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**A/N: dear readers, when I started this story, I had originally hoped to get to this point by chapter 25. However, the plot took on a life of its own, and I simply followed. I have been listening to your urgings to get on with the physical part of their romance so your reviews and PM's have helped me stay on track.**

**From now on, I will be updating at least every two weeks. **

**Now and then, you'll see some M rated material in this story. When I have a chapter that has explicit, sexual content, I'll put an M at the bottom of the chapter in an author's note. That way if you'd prefer to skip that chapter or just skim past that material, you can.**

**A big thank you to those who read and REVIEW! It's always good to hear from you. Your reviews encourage me, give me ideas, and let me know that you're enjoying this story. Please feel free to leave any thoughts or comments including corrections of historical content. **

**nativedreamer**


	46. Chapter 46 Devotion

**Chapter 46 Devotion**

Erik rolled over to his side of the bed, and pulled Jade with him. Holding her loosely in his arms, he tenderly kissed her hair as he slowly ran his hand up and down her back.

With a long sigh, Jade settled against his chest.

"Erik?"

"Yes?" he asked softly.

He smiled when she was silent.

The moment stretched on as he held her contentedly, and relaxed against her small body.

When she was breathing deeply, he rose, lit a candle, and carried it to the table near the bed. Then he slipped back under the covers, and propped himself up on his elbow as he gazed down at her.

The reserved look that she often had was gone, replaced with a delicious softness. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through her hair and played with its satiny, thick mass. As thin as she was, she was still lovely with her long lashes and narrow, straight nose. Lowering himself so that his face lay next to hers, he enjoyed the warm puff of her breath against his skin.

Her lips were still swollen from their kissing. That exquisite act had seemed to stretch on forever, and yet Erik hadn't been able to get enough. Each round of tongue probing had set off another throbbing erection, but he'd ignored it as he hungrily concentrated on Jade's mouth. The love-starved child in him had awakened and had feasted on those kisses. Only the threat of an impending climax had forced him to withdraw.

His finger lightly traced her lips as he stared at them. He had suddenly become a rich man, and was reveling in his treasure. To have her beside him and willingly sharing his bed—he had waited a lifetime for this.

Carefully, he pulled her a little closer, and kissed her cheek. She moaned softly which caused his groin to throb.

Glancing at his excitement, he smiled. _Very soon, _he thought as he closed his eyes with pleasure.

Erik lightly stroked her back as he held her. It would be very pleasant to fall asleep with her tucked in his arms. However, if she were to awaken, and his mask were to slip off…

His jaw clenched and he unconsciously tightened his hold causing her to whimper. Catching himself, he eased his grip, and pressed his nose into her hair. As he inhaled her scent, he meditated on the problem.

The mask had been on his mind since he had first decided to bring her to his home. After some consideration, Erik's solution had been to modify his dwelling with strategically placed devices. One was located under the floor between his bed and the door. The other was under the dais in the front room. Jade had set it off yesterday when she had walked towards him while he played the organ. Both mechanisms were activated by pressure, and discharged an electrical current that would pull him out of a deep reverie or sleep, and prevent a sudden unmasking.

Christine's horror when she had first seen his face had driven him to invent the devices.

However, now that Jade was in his bed, it would be easy for her to reach over and remove it while he slept.

After an hour, Erik carried Jade back to her room where he sat on the edge of the bed, and stroked her hair until she awoke.

Stretching her arms over her head, she blinked sleepily as she looked up at him. Smiling gently, Erik brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"It wasn't a dream, was it?" she asked quietly.

Shaking his head 'no', he cupped her chin in his hand, and traced her lips with his thumb.

She gazed up at him with half closed eyes, mesmerized by that sensuous movement. A minute later, Erik stood up and looked down at her.

"Sleep well, my dear," he replied to the question in her eyes. Then he strolled out of the room.

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That evening, Jules Bernard sat in his kitchen, and watched as his wife kneaded the bread dough for tomorrow's meals. Her plump figure vigorously attacked the round of moistened flour as she took her temper out on it. When it appeared that she had vented most of her anger, he decided to try again.

"Gervaise, please don't make this a problem," Jules said with a strained voice.

She stopped working, and turned to him with a scowl.

"I won't help you," she spat out. "The whole idea is monstrous." Turning her back on him, she continued to punch the dough. Her yellow bodice stretched across her tight shoulders, which shook from her efforts.

Thoughtfully, Jules brushed a few crumbs from the oiled tablecloth. Leaning on his elbows, he assumed a pleading look. He'd tried reasoning with her for the last half hour, and now it was time to change tactics.

"Gervaise, think of what it would be like for you and the children if I weren't here," he said gently. He watched her figure soften, and knew that he had hit his mark. Carefully, he continued. "Erik's a man, just like everyone else, and he deserves a little happiness."

Finishing her task, the brown haired woman wiped her hands on her apron, and returned to the table.

"And what about the woman?" she asked sharply as she leaned back against the chair. Lifting her chin, she stared at her husband. "What doe _she_ have to say about all this?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "He saved her life and nursed her back to health. I'm sure there's a strong bond between them. It's not the same as it was before with the opera singer."

"Really?" she flashed back with disbelief.

After giving him a long, hard look she said, "Jules, will _you_ be the one to console her when she sees his face, and realizes what she's gotten herself into? And you know as well as I what happens when a woman tries to escape him!"

Gervaise left the table, and started on the second lump of dough. Vehemently, she slapped it on the board as she muttered Erik's name.

0000

An hour later, Jules was at his desk writing the letters that Erik had specified. There was a great deal to do, and the work needed to be finished within three weeks.

Knitting his brow, he considered the third item on the list. The required visit to the Town Hall was a problem. He wasn't certain that a bribe would solve it.

Standing up, he stretched his back and blankly stared out the window. He had been at Erik's beck and call since late November when they had begun their hunt for the woman. At the time, Jules had considered the search a futile exercise—a culmination of Erik's useless obsession.

But after they'd found her, he had changed his mind. He'd watched as Erik had placed her in the boat, and had handled her with the utmost tenderness. He'd seen the ache in that fierce man's eyes as he'd stared down at the unconscious woman.

Jules shook his head and reached for his cloak. _Gervaise doesn't understand, _he thought as he stepped out the door. _Every man needs a chance for redemption._

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That evening, Jade examined some of the treasures of Erik's home. Before her was a large tapestry of a medieval garden with tightly shaped bushes and delicately arranged fruit trees. In the center of the design were a young woman and a white unicorn. As she followed its cunning pattern, she marveled at Erik's taste. It was beautifully done, and added a majestic grandeur to his home. It looked old, and had probably originated in the castle of a great lord.

Stepping away from the hanging, she strolled about the spacious room. The fatigue that had plagued her since November was finally lifting, and for the first time in months, she felt like dancing.

Her eyes settled on the couch. If she were to push it closer to the dais, it would give her more room to move. Glancing at the door, she wondered when Erik would return. When she had awoken, there had been a note waiting for her on the table with her meal, which had explained that he would be absent that afternoon while he tended to business.

_What business?_ she wondered as she set her shoulder to the couch and shoved it. Did he work like other men? She thought of the green gown that sat in the wardrobe in her bedroom along with several new garments. Reflecting on his impeccable attire, she speculated as to how he managed day-to-day affairs. There had to be others helping him. Perhaps he had gone to meet with one of them.

Moving to the center of the room, Jade closed her eyes and concentrated on the music in her mind. The melody had the quicksilver quality of a cascading brook. Its liveliness coursed through her limbs, and gave her a much-needed lightness.

As she focused on the lilting melody, her hand rose of its own accord and swept the air.

She was in the stream with cool eddies swirling about her ankles. The fresh forest smell tickled her nose, and the wind moved in waves through the aspen leaves above. Lifting her skirts, she balanced on the slippery rocks, and danced through the water as she kicked up a spray. The clear notes of a lone flute rained down upon her as she traipsed along the thick, woolen carpets. Raising her shoulders, she spun with out-stretched arms with her face tilted to the sky.

After ten minutes of that easy rhythm, she sat on the floor, and pulled her knees to her chest. The music drifted away, and she rested in silence. A minute later, she lazily looked out from under her lashes, and noticed the dark trousers that stood beside her.

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Stepping out of the boat, Erik walked lightly across the jagged rocks of the cavern floor to his home. He was considering the afternoon's work and what needed to be done in the next three weeks.

Pausing at the entrance, he thought of Jade. When he had last seen her, she had been quietly sleeping, but by now she would surely be awake. The thought of her waiting for him was exciting. He imagined her sitting on the coach with her head bent over a book, and the look that would be in her eyes when she saw him again. Then there were those soft lips that needed to he kissed… Eagerly, he opened the door.

She was standing in the middle of the room with her eyes closed and her attention turned inward. Gliding to the worktable, Erik sat down and silently watched her. He had only seen her dance on two other occasions, the last having been in September on the opera house stage. She appeared to be deeply lost in the music, and he leaned forward in anticipation.

Her hands moved lightly, effortlessly as they floated on the air—random gestures that hinted at the hidden melody. As she continued, he realized what she was doing as he saw the water slipping through her fingers. He smiled with delight when she kicked up a spray, and whimsically scattered the drops about her. He could _see_ the water splattering the walls.

Spellbound, Erik watched as Jade merged with the water. Her lithe figure stretched and thinned, and a green light momentarily flashed about her.

Shaking his head, he looked again. The light was gone, but her intimacy with that element remained. As he continued to watch, Erik forgot that he was beneath the opera house as his mind flew to forests above and the gypsy camps of his childhood.

Once again he was a child listening to the tales about the entities who lived in streams and trees. The storyteller's face shifted in the campfire's shadows, and his long hands expressively moved near the flames as he shaped the story.

Erik opened his eyes, and he gazed at the tapestry with its unicorn. Then his eyes returned to Jade.

As he watched her traipse across the carpet with the innocence of a child, he understood why she would hide from others when she danced. She was oblivious to his presence and utterly vulnerable.

When she finished, Erik rose and strode to her side. Her dancing had carried him away, and at that moment, he wanted to scoop her up, and take her to his bed.

But suddenly, he stopped. Jade was huddled before him with her knees clasped to her chest, and there was a shimmering glow about her. As he stared down at her, the image of the unicorn settled in his mind.

A new feeling was dawning. For the first time, he had intense desire without the need to absolutely possess her. Jade's individuality, her separateness, had suddenly become precious.

Erik stood by her side and waited.

A moment later, Jade turned her head, and slowly looked up at him with a distant, dreamy look.

Reaching down, he took her hands, and helped her to her feet.

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Jade stared ahead as Erik propelled the boat along the lake. They were traveling in a different direction than usual. She was seated in the front of the boat facing away from him while the craft sped across the water.

The cashmere cloak sat lightly on her shoulders, and beneath it was a new blue gown that Erik had given her that evening.

He had laid it on her bed next to a pair of blue satin slippers, and then looked intently at her. Jade had gazed at him for a moment, and then had looked at the lovely, cornflower blue gown. _What is he up to?_ she had wondered.

With a honeyed tone, he had said, "Jade, it is pleasant weather tonight. Would you allow me to escort you to dinner?"

Now here she was, wearing the new outfit as they flew through the cavern.

As usual, Erik was being mysterious and not giving away his intentions. However tonight, she didn't care. She was on an adventure, and traveling to the world above for the first time with her dark lover.

Yes, they were lovers now. Or at least, they would soon be. Their long session of kissing had set to rest any remaining doubts that she'd had. Erik was a gentle, and considerate and would ease her into their new physical relationship. She was grateful for his kindness and experience.

Cocking her head, she listened for sounds behind her. She could barely make out Erik's breathing. The soft whistle caused her ears to tingle and warmth to creep up her arms. The moment he had taken her hand tonight and led her to the boat, her senses had become heightened. She was relishing this waking dream as they slid through the night.

The paddling ceased, and the boat drifted for a few moments as Erik guided it to shore. Stepping out, he offered her his hand, and then led her to the mouth of the cavern where the moon's thin light coated the iron-gate. Briefly, there was the sound of metal against metal, and then the gate swung open.

Erik took her hand, and led her up the narrow street to the street beyond where a carriage waited. Stepping inside, they sat across from each other, and the carriage began to move.

It was exceptionally warm for the first night in February, a welcome surprise after the harsh winter. Jade stared out the window, and watched the streets pass by. Soon they were on a large avenue filled with vehicles and foot traffic. The raucous noise of carriages and drivers jostled her mind, and plunged her back into reality. It reminded her that for the last few days she had been living a rarefied, almost dream-like existence.

She turned away from the street, and gazed at the man in front of her.

Erik was handsomely outfitted with his black cape and his pristine white collar rising above it. The cloak opened and fell away at his waist revealing the lower part of his golden waistcoat, and his long, lean legs. His hands rested on his thighs, covered by the well-fitted black, leather gloves.

Peering at his face, she noticed how he had chosen the side of the carriage, which hid him in the shadows, whereas she was exposed to the streetlights. As she meditated on that, he turned his head to the street, and presented his white mask in profile. Occasionally a stray shaft of light lit it up with a stark glow. Staring at it, Jade suddenly felt grateful for its existence. It would always be a reminder that Erik was not a man to be trifled with.

The carriage traveled through unfamiliar streets, and eventually came to a heavily vegetated area where it stopped. Erik stepped out and offered her his hand. Once out of the carriage, Jade looked about and saw a large pond, which was dimly lit by the quarter moon. They were in a park-like setting without another human in sight.

Erik led her up a path to a copse of aspen. Wet dead leaves matted the ground and muffled their footsteps. They passed the stately, white trunks that dully reflected the moon's bare light, and came to a small pavilion constructed of stretched fabric and billowing, linen walls. Inside were a table and two chairs surrounded by dozens of candles in tiny ruby red and cobalt blue glass lanterns scattered on the ground.

When they were seated, Erik whisked out the food and set it on the table—a feast of pheasant, warm bisque, truffles, and petite discs of rich chocolate. Carefully, he measured out her food, and handed Jade her plate. It was delicious, and she savored the sweet and earthy tastes as she stared down at the pond below.

As they silently sipped their wine, a light breeze tugged at the canopy, and Jade pulled her cloak around her. Erik moved his chair next to hers, and placed his hand on the back of her neck. Then he casually reached for one of the chocolates, and brought it to her mouth. Jade watched him with wide eyes as he gently rubbed the delicacy against her lips. When she opened her mouth, he deftly laid it on her tongue. Then he bent over and kissed her.

The rich taste of melting chocolate accompanied by his tongue slowly stroking the inside of her mouth was almost too much for her. Her heart started pounding and she automatically reached for his face with both hands. His warm cheek met her right hand and the leather mask slid beneath her left. It was her first contact with his mask, and she gasped when she touched it. Opening her eyes, she stared into his fierce ones as her hands fell from his face. Pulling away, she leaned back in her chair and watched helplessly as Erik leisurely picked up a napkin, and dabbed the chocolate from her lips. Then he sensuously ran it across his own as he slowly smiled at her.

In spite of the winter night, her skin was on fire. Suddenly rising, Jade stepped out of the enclosure towards the pond, and in a moment Erik was at her side. Taking her arm, he led her down the path to the water below where and then to a path that skirted the shore.

Silently, they strolled next to the still water under the light of the moon. Ahead of them, a white shape emerged from the blackness, which gradually became a pair of swans swimming in their direction. When the great birds reached them, Erik stopped and solemnly watched as they floated by. Then his hands slid around Jade's waist, and he pulled her close to him while pressing his lips into her hair. After holding her tightly for a long moment, he sighed deeply, and slowly released her.

"Are you chilly, my dear?" he asked gently as he gazed down at her.

Jade shook her head "no". Taking her arm, he led her to a nearby bench where they sat and watched as the swans disappeared.

"After a few minutes, he spoke.

"Jade, do you think you will be happy living here in Paris, instead of the Provinces?"

She thought about his question for a minute before replying. "I used to think that I would go back to the country someday, but now, I don't know." Then she turned and stared at him intently. "And where would you prefer to live, Erik?"

A dry sound escaped him, and Jade bit her lip. _What a foolish, insensitive thing for me to ask,_ she thought with dismay as she looked away. Obviously, a man of his tastes and gifts would not have deliberately chosen to live in a cave. Her careless question had simply reminded him of what he couldn't have.

Taking his hand, she pressed it between her own as she struggled with a newfound sadness for him.

His face was hidden in shadow, and his voice was smoothly controlled when he said, "I have lived in many places, my dear."

Leaned towards him, she tried to discover his hidden meaning but couldn't penetrate the mystery he had wrapped himself in.

Erik offered her his hand, and led her back to the carriage.

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Their ride back was slow and comfortable. Erik sat beside Jade and held her hand as she stared out at the passing streets. They were taking a different way back to the opera house than the way they'd come. Soon she recognized landmarks, and realized that they were in the vicinity of the river. Craning her neck, she eagerly awaited her first sight of the Seine. She hadn't been in this part of Paris since November and it was her favorite place in the city.

Erik struck the ceiling with his fist and the carriage stopped.

The breeze was stronger by the river but Jade didn't notice the chill. Instead, she happily stared at the sliver-streaked water below them. Returning to this place where she had acquired many pleasant memories gave her the feeling of coming home. She looked up at Erik who was watching her, and then placed her hand in his.

A short distance away was the familiar bench that was hidden in an alcove of hanging branches. As they sat there, her mind wandered to the months before when she and Pierre had sat in that same place. At that time, they had only been friends for a couple of weeks, and yet she had felt her heart quickly opening to him. It had been the beginning of her new life in Paris with friends, a home, and Gillian.

Gazing down at the river, she wondered where Erik had been on that night.

The hanging branches behind them suddenly swayed in the breeze. Turning her head towards the rustling mass, Jade felt something at her hands. Glancing at them, she saw Erik's pale, bare hands moving across her own as they gently slid her gloves off. A moment later, his hands were caressing hers.

Lifting her eyes to his, she gazed into their intense depths. There was something familiar about their expression, a hypnotic quality. As he held her gaze, Jade searched her memory and it came to her that this was the way he had looked at her in the wounded stallion's stall, on the first day that they'd met. She had been looking up at him as he handed her the salve, and his eyes had caught hers in a mesmerizing gaze.

She had feared him then, and yet she had allowed him to touch her. Now she loved him. And still, the look in his eyes was the same.

With that realization, she felt a slight pressure on her finger and looked down.

On her left ring finger was a small band of gold set with three diamonds. As she shifted her hand the dim light moved across the silver points, which winked at her.

Her eyes shot up to Erik's with an intense, questioning look. _Why?_ Flashed through her mind as she stared hard at him.

In answer to her query, Erik bent down and kissed her.

It was a long, possessive kiss with his hands grasping her waist as he pressed her against the bench. His lips crushed her mouth with hot fervor. As the kiss grew harder, and swept her up in its storm, she distantly thought that she would be sorely bruised from it in the morning.

It was a declaration of his need, and she yielded to it. Moments later, she felt his hands release her waist. One traveled to the back of her head and cradled it, while the other lifted her chin as his mouth softened over hers. Then his lips moved across her face in slow, lingering kisses.

Jade shut her eyes, and gave herself up to him. She understood what he was doing. Erik was worshipping her. He was opening his heart, and pouring out his love.

In that stillness, as she rested on the wave of his devotion, she felt the beauty of heaven.


	47. Chapter 47 Wedding

**Chapter 47 Wedding**

White satin hung from a rod in the dressmaker's shop as lamplight stroked its radiant folds.

With eyes half closed, Jade stood in her petticoats, and stared at the luminous cloth while gnarled hands skimmed along her legs and tugged at her garments.

The dressmaker who was taking her measurements followed Jade's gaze, and smiled.

"It is a very fine fabric, Mademoiselle. Italian satin. Your future husband has chosen the best."

Lowering her eyes, Jade gazed at the gray head beside her. Utterly out of her element, she had become as docile as a child as the woman moved her about.

Finishing, the dressmaker straightened. Then she walked to a nearby table, and returned with something in her hand.

"Here is the lace that will be used for the trim," she stated with sparkling eyes.

Jade stretched out tentative fingers, and touched the delicate fabric. It was an open design using silk thread that was exceptionally soft for lacework. As the tips of her fingers brushed its surface, she was reminded of the beauty of snowflakes swirling from the night sky.

The woman nodded and said, "He instructed that it be soft…that everything in the gown be as soft as the froth on a wave." The old woman gazed into Jade's eyes with a dreamy, enchanted look that lightened her aged face.

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That evening, the black carriage stopped in front of Jean and Manette's apartment house, and Jade stepped out. After instructing the driver to wait, she walked through the pale lamplight to the door and knocked.

Jean opened it, and silently stared at her for a moment before giving her a fierce hug and dragging her inside.

"Manette, " he roared as he pulled Jade to the sofa. Once she was seated, he stood above her, and his flashing eyes raked her body. Abruptly, he sat down and grasped her hands.

"At last, you are here, " he declared with a husky voice. A moment later, Manette joined them.

She was in her fifth month of pregnancy with a pronounced belly. The loose fitting, green skirt that draped her new curve swished as she sped to the couch. As the two women embraced, Jean leaned back with his arms crossed behind his head, and grinned.

At supper, Manette and Jean filled Jade's ears with news about the opera house and their lives. There had been so many changes since she'd left! She leaned on the table and soaked it all in. And thankfully, her friends avoided asking her questions even though their eyes were sharp with curiosity.

After their meal, they sat next to the fire with Jean smoking his pipe and Manette and Jade stitching baby clothes.

Studying Manette, Jade noted her rosy cheeks, which matched her pretty bodice. She appeared content as she held her sewing on her belly. Occasionally, Jade stole secretive glances at that mysterious mound.

"Jade, your sewing is much quicker than before," Manette said as she watched her friend's needle fly. She was sewing twice as fast as Manette, and each stitch was neat and precise.

"Thank you. When I left the opera house I had a job as a seamstress, and that's how I've lived until the last few weeks."

Exchanging looks with Manette, Jean spoke. "You're thinner than when we saw you last. Were you comfortable there?" He asked gently.

With a sigh, Jade put down her sewing, and gazed at her friends who looked at her expectantly.

She told them about her life away from the opera house, and how much she had missed them and the Opera Populaire. She had managed to survive, and even save some money until discovering Gillian's death. Then her episode of melancholy had set in. The last week of her depression was a blur so she said little about it. Nor did she elaborate on that bleak, cold room and the weeks of intense loneliness that preceded her illness. There was no point in further disturbing her friends who anxiously hung on her words.

"We heard about the child's death in early January, " said Jean with his eyes tenderly fixed on hers.

Manette squeezed her hand, which she had been holding during her friend's story. "As soon as we heard the news, we were desperate to find you. We didn't want you to be alone when you found out." Her large eyes brimmed with tears as she gazed at Jade.

"Thank you," Jade replied softly. She emptily stared at the fire as she recalled the forlorn little cross in the cemetery that was Gillian's memorial.

"I wanted to keep working but unfortunately I let it all get the better of me. I don't remember much about that time except that I ate practically nothing." She pulled up her sleeve and showed them her thin arm. "I've gained some of it back but it's a slow process."

Remembering how emaciated she had looked only a few days before, she shivered. _If Erik hadn't found me in time... _Taking in a deep breath, she repeated her thoughts out loud.

"If it hadn't been for him finding me, I might not have survived."

"Him?" Jean asked.

Raising her eyes to his, Jade gazed at him steadily as she replied with a quiet, firm tone. "The man that I was hiding from, my benefactor, found me. He took me to his home, and nursed me back to health."

A heavy silence settled on them until Jean finally spoke.

"If I understand you correctly, the man who you were hiding from, who you thought would injure your friends, and who was therefore responsible for your predicament, he was the one who rescued you?"

His voice was thick with tension. Jade held his eyes with an unwavering gaze while her face remained calm.

"Yes Jean. He found me, and saved me."

She knew that her relationship with Erik would be difficult for them to understand. Jade had fled him and tried to protect her friends, and in the process, she'd made Erik out to be a dangerous character. It was expecting a lot for them to suddenly see him in a favorable light. However, she had to try to explain. She wanted her friends to accept her decision.

Jean stared at her hand, and then asked pointedly, "Is that his ring on your finger?"

The tone of his voice cut her. Nodding silently, she lowered her eyes.

"Oh, Jade dear," Manette suddenly cried as she squeezed her hand excitedly.

Manette's enthusiasm was encouraging. As Jade turned to her friend, she hoped that it would be contagious and turn Jean to their side.

By then, Jean was leaning back in his chair with a strange look on his face—one of annoyance, concern, and frustration. Finally, he spoke.

"You are an intelligent woman. What has changed your opinion of this man?"

What could she say to convince him? She had known women who had protected husbands who terrorized them, and she had regarded them as pitiful, trapped creatures. Would Jean think she had joined their ranks?

There was a definite risk to marrying Erik. He was an extremely complicated man, whose past was a mystery. On top of that, their wedding was approaching at break neck speed, and they had not yet spoken of his temper, or the music that he'd played on the night he'd driven her away.

It was one thing to be someone's mistress, and quite another to be bound to him for life in marriage. Jean's concern was reasonable.

Unconsciously, she touched the ring on her finger as she gazed at him earnestly. "Jean, I looked into his heart, and saw the love that was there. Once I recognized it, I knew that I would be safe with him."

After a few moments, he said slowly, "When are you to be married?"

She answered, "In three weeks time. I want you and Manette to come to our celebration." She turned to Manette who had a bright look on her face.

"Jade, you must allow me to lend you my veil. It belonged to Jean's mother."

Jade smiled. This was a piece of good fortune that she hadn't expected! Manette was a happily married woman, and her veil would bring good luck to her own marriage.

For the next hour, Manette and Jade discussed the wedding plans. Manette was thrilled when she discovered that Jade's wedding gown was being made by one of Paris's premiere shops.

Jean sat silently with his palms pressed together and his fingers touching his chin, as he watched the two women. Periodically Jade would glance in his direction to see if his somber expression had changed.

When it was time to leave, Manette gave her another warm hug, and then went upstairs to bed. Jean walked her to the carriage.

"Jade," he began, as he looked at her firmly. Then his stern expression softened as he took her hands. "Both Manette and I regard you as a sister. If for any reason you should need our assistance, we will do our best to help you. You have only to speak up, and tell us what you need."

Bending over, he whispered in her ear. "His reach may be long, but I have connections in England if you need them. You don't have to go through with this marriage if it you don't wish it."

She stared into his grim face, and then kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you Jean."

When the carriage pulled away, Jade watched the dark faced man who stood in the street, as he followed her departure with unhappy eyes.

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Erik stopped pacing, and looked up at the waxing moon. It was another cloudless night. Jade had promised to return by nine o'clock and the hour was drawing near. Restlessly, he stared at the street, and waited.

Earlier that day, he had watched her walk up that same street as she went to the dressmakers for the first fitting of her wedding gown. While studying her straight back, he had meditated on how unusually docile she was behaving. He simply had to point her in the desired direction and she was complying, without a fuss.

However, he had hated to let her go, and her absence today from his home had been a bit maddening. He would have preferred to keep her there until the day of the wedding.

Last night, he had given her the ring. This morning they'd said little to each other as they basked in their newfound tranquility.

Unfortunately, he'd had to risk disrupting that peace by introducing a delicate, but necessary subject.

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"Jade, there is a matter that I wish to speak with you about."

She looked up from her book with an alert gaze.

Erik studied those intense eyes, and then continued.

"When we are husband and wife, I want our first time together to be comfortable for you."

Pausing, he watched as her cheeks reddened. Because of her previous relationship, he had wondered if she was still a virgin. Her modesty showed that she was, and he held back a sigh of relief. At least in that area he would not have to compete with a memory.

She lifted her chin and gave him a serious, attentive look, which nearly made him smile.

Tilting his head slightly, he continued. "There is something that you can do to prepare yourself. If you would allow me to instruct you…"

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As he moved through the deep shadows that filled that poorly lit street, a clock struck the hour. The last chime resounded, grew thin, and eventually disappeared into the noise of distant traffic. Suddenly, there was the rumbling of wheels in a nearby street, and Erik watched as a carriage appeared a couple of streets away. Abruptly, it stopped.

Before Jade could step out, Erik was climbing in. Then the vehicle started up again.

Feeling her beside him, he lovingly looked down at her. They had been apart since the late afternoon, and he was eager to touch her again. When he saw the pensive look on her face, he took her hands and caressed them. _Something has upset her_, he thought. The relaxed air that she'd had earlier in the day had disappeared. Tucking his fingers under her chin, he gently turned her head towards him.

"What is it Jade?" he asked smoothly.

She slowly blinked as she somberly stared up at him.

"Erik, I have been thinking of the last night that we were together in your home, the night you played your music and I left." She paused, as if searching for words.

A feeling of dread descended on him, and his jaw tightened.

"Why did you play that music?" she asked.

Erik held her gaze for a long moment and then answered cautiously. "I was angry, my dear. I thought you had chosen another, the farmer." He watched her and waited.

Jade nodded, and turned away from him. Then she stared out the carriage window for several minute before quietly asking, "Were you trying to hurt me?"

There was a rawness to her voice that compelled him to touch her. She turned to him, and there were tears on her cheeks.

He replied hoarsely, "No, Jade. My anger was not meant for you."

Suddenly, she pushed her face into his chest. Gathering her into his arms, Erik stroked her hair while she took in a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. He held her as the carriage rocked them both.

After a minute, she murmured, "When you play your music, it fills me up." Then her hands crept up his chest, and rested on his shoulders as she raised her face to his. "You must never use it to hurt me, Erik." She gave him a tight, sad smile.

Swallowing hard, he pulled her closer and said, "I give you my word that I will never do that again."

Jade settled against his chest, and Erik gently cradled her head with his hand as he stared into the night.

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On the day of her wedding, Jade sat in front of a vanity mirror while Madame Giry combed out her hair. Yards of white satin bunched at her feet, and she resisted the impulse to kick off the encumbrance. Patiently, she waited for the woman to finish. She was sitting very straight with her chin held high as she watched the sure hands pile hair upon her head, and deftly pin it in place with jewel studded, silver combs.

When the woman finished, Jade met her eyes in the mirror, and gave her a brief nod of thanks.

Last night she had checked into a hotel, and had met Mme. Giry there. The older woman's cool stare had indicated a possible disapproval of her, so Jade had remained silent as they walked to their suite.

Erik had told her that Mme. Giry would be spending the night with her in the hotel. "She will assist you with your gown and hair. She is an old acquaintance of mine, and you may speak freely to her about anything that you wish," he had said.

It had been an unnecessary assurance since the two women had scarcely said a thing to each other.

The wedding gown had been waiting for Jade in the wardrobe when she entered her room. She had spread it across the bed and looked at its glory, dazzled by its splendor and the fact that it was hers.

Now she gazed in the mirror and examined the silver embroidery dotted with pearls that edged the décolletage of the gown. Her breasts were slightly exposed giving her a virginal appearance. That same elaborate design formed a V at her waist making it appear even smaller. She traced the shapes of birds, horses, and flowers, which merged into a band of dancing forms across her breasts. Soft lace was neatly tucked between the voluminous folds of the skirt, and hung in a spray from the ends of her sleeves.

As Mme. Giry carried the veil to her, Jade wished that it was her mother helping her today. That was how it should have been—her mother guiding her through this ritual. Shutting her eyes, she said a prayer asking her mother to bless their marriage.

Manette's veil was pinned around the shining combs, followed by the veil of Danish lace that Erik had given her. When it was finished, Jade peered out at the room, which suddenly was patterned with floating flowers. She turned her head, and the fabric gently pulled back as if telling her that she was soon be entwined with another.

Stepping back, Mme. Giry gave her a nod. Slowly, Jade rose from her seat, and picked up her bouquet of white orchids.

She was ready.

The four men looked up as she entered the room. They were bending over a table signing documents. Through the lace, she watched as Erik straightened and faced her.

He was wearing a gray mask that completely covered the part of his face that was above his mouth. It was the same color as his elegant, dove gray suit. His head was bare, and his black hair shone in the lamplight.

As Jade glided towards him the room stretched out, and everything vanished except for his tall, powerful shape. His impassioned eyes fixed on hers, and stared down at her with a look of triumph.

Tightly he gripped her hands and his controlled ardor pushed aside the dreamlike state she had been in all day. This was real. She was about to be joined to Erik. Catching her breath, she stared into his intense eyes as he pulled her to him.

The mayor of Paris was there to perform the service with Jules Bernard and Mme. Giry as their witnesses. The Civil Code was read, and the couple was questioned. Then the clerk passed them the certificates, which they signed.

When Erik signed his name, Jade stared at his bold signature: M. Erik Marsolais. Then she looked at her own signature. She had become a new woman with a new name. Just like that, it was done. They were now legally husband and wife.

Her trancelike state returned when Erik smoothly led her to the adjacent reception room. There the perfumed splendor of the bouquets covered her with their scent. The pressure on her hand eased and Erik lifted the veil from her face.

As he lowered his masked face to hers, she watched his eyes. The strange mask concealed him from the rest of the world, but his eyes were naked with elation. His warm breath touched her ear, and his rich voice pierced the dream as he said, "Jade, you are mine, as I am yours."

That simple declaration held immense promise.

With great tenderness, his lips joined hers in a long kiss.

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It was a very short visit with Erik's friends. They were there as legal witnesses, and would not be staying. But before they left, Jade led Erik to the two wedding cakes. Holding the knife, she placed Erik's hand over hers and cut the first piece from each cake. Then she brought a morsel to his lips. As he returned the favor his fingers rested briefly on her lips, reminding her of what was to come. Each guests was given a piece, which they dutifully ate in order to bless the marriage.

When they were alone, Jade stared up at Erik wondering what feelings were moving across his face. He was holding her hands tightly as if she were a bird that was about to fly away from him. She knew that he was pleased with her appearance since his eyes would sweep her body, and return to her face with renewed fire.

Carefully he pulled her to him, and slid his hand slowly down her back in a long caress. "You are beautiful, my dear," he said with a tight sound in his voice. "In three hours, Jules will return for you, and take you to the church. I will be waiting for you there."

He suddenly released her and strode away. As she watched him disappear through the door, the enchantment was broken. She sat down and stared distantly at the door as she waited for her guests to appear.

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Jade sat amid her friends at the wedding feast. Everyone seemed very pleased to be there with her on her wedding day. That is, except for Pierre and Jean.

The two men were behaving in a reserved manner, as if they were waiting for something dreadful to occur. They were huddled together, and speaking to each other in quiet voices. _Storm crows, _she thought as she watched them pick at the wedding cake with disinterest. They seemed hesitant to perform the simple act of consuming it, which would bless her marriage with good fortune and fertility.

She shook her head, and tried to dismiss her disquiet. It was natural that they be concerned. Here was the wedding celebration, and only the bride was present! Jade knew they hadn't believed her when she said that her husband hadn't been able to attend because he was busy dealing with the last affairs of the day.

_If only I were a better liar, _she thought wryly. _Then I would be able to create a plausible story that would make them less suspicious of Erik. _Sighing, she looked at Mme. Pissaro who was chatting with Michel Aubert. The older woman had been very disappointed when she'd heard that she wouldn't be meeting M. Marsolais.

As the musicians played, the hotel staff carried food to and from the room. It was a sumptuous meal that included grouse and of course, the traditional wedding cake. The croquembouche stood towering above the rest of the food with its pyramid of delicate, crème filled pastry puffs covered with caramel glaze and spun sugar. Next to it was a smaller white cake that Jade had ordered—the traditional wedding cake of her family.

Paul Rascon's children were munching on their dragees—almonds and nougat covered with chocolate. It would have been more traditional for her, as the bride, to toss them to the children as she and her husband left the church after the service. However, since the children wouldn't be there, this would have to do.

Jade wasn't exactly superstitious, but she felt that it couldn't hurt to follow the wedding traditions that blessed a new union. She and Erik would need all the luck they could get as they started their new life together.

All of her friends had come for the dinner. And even though Pierre and Jean weren't enthusiastic about her marriage, they were still here, demonstrating that they cared about her happiness. In spite of the fact that Erik couldn't be here at her side, she felt blessed.

A hand softly touched her back, and she looked up into Michel's dark eyes.

"Jade, would you dance with me?" he asked a little shyly.

Smiling, she rose and stepped out onto the floor, as Michel looked down at her with adoring eyes.

An hour later, Jade said goodbye to her guests. Gabrielle pulled her aside, and gave her a knowing look that seemed to say that they were sharing a private joke.

"Now that you are back in the world again, _Madame_, I hope you will join me on a trip to one of my favorite cafés. There are some artists that I would like to introduce you to." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. At the mention of artists, Jade's heart sped up a little and she smiled.

Bending over her, Gabrielle whispered into her ear. "Enjoy tonight, my dear." Her eyes danced as she watched Jade blush.

Pierre, his sister Marie, and Michel said their goodbyes together. Marie took Jade's hands and squeezed them while gazing excitedly into her eyes.

"I hope I look half as beautiful as you when I marry! I'm still trying to comprehend how your husband could design such an exquisite gown. It suits you perfectly. You will be coming to my wedding, won't you?" she added breathlessly.

Nodding, Jade smiled and patted her hand. Since Pierre's family had been guests at her wedding, it would be acceptable for her to attend Marie's, even after she had turned down Pierre's proposal.

Pierre was standing back from the others, watching her. As she took his large hands in hers, and felt their warmth, Jade was suddenly moved by tender sadness. She had yet to speak with him about her decision to marry. A long letter explaining the events of her recovery and Erik's proposal had only touched on what she had really wanted to say. They 'd agreed to meet the next time he came to Paris. Until then, he would have to wait for her story.

Of all of her friends, he was the dearest, and the one that she loved best. Looking into his eyes, she nearly gripped his hands when he slowly withdrew them.

The last to leave was Jean and Manette. They embraced her, and Manette fussed with the veils as she exclaimed that everything had been perfect. Jean took Jade's hand, and gave her a serious look.

"You will visit us soon," he stated, as if it were no longer her choice. Then he squeezed her hand, and they departed.

A few minutes later, Jules Bernard entered the room, and escorted her downstairs.

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When she saw the waiting carriage with the gray horse, Jade smiled. Erik had thought of everything!

By the time they arrived at the church it was dark. They entered through the side entrance, and found Erik, Mme. Giry, and the priest waiting for them.

There were candles everywhere—candelabras interspersed between enormous bouquets of white flowers in shining, silver vases. The sharp scent of incense mingled with their sweet fragrance. Erik had changed from his gray morning suit to a black one. As Jules led Jade to the back of the church, she turned her head and looked at Erik whose eyes followed her from behind the dark mask.

They reached the back of the church, and turned. Slowly, she walked down the aisle with a majestic pace, past row after row of empty pews. The high ceiling above was hidden in shadows, and seemed a gateway to heaven. Her gaze caressed the delicate white blossoms and bright silver. Beside her were the muffled footsteps of her companion who was gently pulling her along. He was leading her to Erik who was standing with his head held high, watching her. In the eyes of France he was already her husband but it was here, before God, that they would truly be married.

Jade met him at the steps to the altar and looked up at him through her veil. His black mask made him look like a bold bandit. She felt a sudden thrill when he took her hand, as if he was about to clasp her in his arms and carry her away. The incense floated around them and draped them in its cloying perfume. Her skin felt flushed under her dress when his hand folded over hers as he claimed her in front the witnesses.

Together, Erik and Jade knelt on the carpeted steps, and heard the mass. Under the soothing rhythms of the priest's voice, her excitement fell off and a blessed stillness settled around her. When the mass was finished, a brief marriage ceremony took place.

Stepping under the carre—a square of silk fabric stretched above their heads, Jade gazed at the tall man who stood by her side as they received the priest's final blessing. He looked proud, and noble under that pale canopy. She knew that after this, Erik would probably not enter a church again, unless it was for their first child's baptism. The church service had been arranged for her benefit. This was his gift to her, and she was grateful for his splendid kindness.

As they left the church, their feet crushed the laurel leaves that covered the aisle, and released a strong, sweet odor. Then they passed beneath the flowered arch and stepped outside.

Jade waited in the carriage as Erik spoke with M. Bernard for a minute. The night air was chilly, and she pulled the cloak closer about her. When Erik stepped in, he gave her a long piercing look that she couldn't read. By then, she was beginning to feel tired after the excitement of the day, so she shut her eyes and leaned back in the seat. She drifted off, and awoke when they arrived at the iron-gate.

Once in the boat her voluminous dress occupied all of the free space. They floated along, and she dreamily watched as Erik moved the craft with smooth, quick strokes. She smiled when she thought of how the two of them must look stuffed in a tiny boat on an underground lake in full wedding regalia. It was a strange, and wonderful life that she'd gotten herself into. For a brief moment, she wondered what new astonishing things might be ahead. Or would some day all of this be nothing more than everyday life?

When they arrived, Erik lifted her out of the boat, and carried her to his bedroom where he laid her on the bed. Turning on his heel, he vanished. Then he returned several minutes later, carrying an engraved cup, a double handled la coupe de mariage—the toasting cup used by newlyweds. He had removed the full mask and was again wearing his half mask.

They sat on the bed, solemnly toasted their marriage, and drank from the cup.

It was just wine, and she drank only enough to fill a wine glass. However suddenly, Jade felt as if she'd drunk an entire bottle. It went to her head, and she looked up at Erik with shining eyes. Slowly, he placed the cup on the table. Then he rose and stood in front of her. With his long legs, he towered above her. Her blurred eyes focused on his crotch, which seemed to be expanding as she watched.

He took her hands and pulled her to him. Both of them were breathing hard.

Erik's eyes traveled up and down her body and then rested on her face. Slowly, his hands encircled her waist as he said with a sultry voice, "May I be of service to you, my dear?"

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**A/N: in this chapter, I've included some of the wedding traditions of France from that time. One belief was that a gray horse pulling the wedding carriage brought luck to the marriage.**

**Well dear readers, this was a very hard chapter for me to write. I've become rather dependent upon angst to further the story and keep it interesting. So, although I'll do my best to get a chapter to you every two weeks, please don't get too frustrated if sometimes it takes longer. I know you need regular installments in order to stay interested in this story.**

**Thanks again to those of you who review! I got the 600th review this week which was exciting. We authors LOVE to hear from you, our delightful muses.**


	48. Chapter 48 Union

**Chapter 48 Union**

Erik's hands encircled Jade's waist, and he pulled her a little closer. As she watched the rise and fall of his chest, the heavy smell of burning candle wax intensified, and her legs started to wobble.

Stepping backwards, she stared through the growing haze at Erik.

"Jade…" she heard in the distance as she sat on the edge of the bed. Languidly, she looked up in his direction.

The next thing she knew, her cheek was pressed against the pillow and something was tugging at her back. When the gown was loosened, she took in a deep breath and the haze began to clear.

"I told that woman not to make this gown too tight," she heard a voice growl behind her, as strong hands moved the dress down her shoulders. Jade tried to turn her head to see the voice, and then felt her arms being pulled out of the dress, followed by cloth sliding down her hips.

"I must have gained too much weight," she said lightly with a snort of glee. Suddenly, everything was funny as a giddy bubble worked its way out of her throat, and the bed began to move. It felt like she was floating on the lake, with waves of darkness lapping against her.

"How much did you drink at the reception…" she heard Erik's voice ask, as if he was calling to her from the kitchen.

"Not too much," she replied drowsily. A minute later, she was asleep.

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When she awoke, Jade was in her petticoats lying under the covers in Erik's bed. It was cozy, and the velvet pillowcase against her cheek was incredibly soft. Only a few candles near the bed were lit. She was floating on an island of light in the darkness.

Yawning, she turned and stared at the darker spot that was the door to the hall, until the room came into focus. Then she reluctantly pulled off the warm covers, and padded across the thick carpet to the water closet in her room.

Later, she put on the green silk nightgown that was laid out on her bed. She threw on a robe, and sat in front of the vanity mirror as she combed out her hair.

Glancing at the door, she leaned towards the hall and strained to hear the sound of footsteps. Had Erik gone out?

Grimacing at the mirror, she thought, _I passed out on my wedding night!_ It was embarrassing.

Over the last three nights she hadn't gotten enough sleep, especially last night when she'd been in the hotel with Mme. Giry. Plus, there was the sheer excitement of the wedding day that had worn her out. Raising her eyebrows, she stared at her eyes, looking for telltale dark circles that would indicate that she'd had too much alcohol at the reception. She hadn't meant to overdo it, but the waiter had regularly refilled the wine glasses with the very good vintage that Erik had provided. Perhaps she had inadvertently drunk more than she'd intended.

Staring at herself, she puzzled over her hair. _Married women always braid their hair before going to bed,_ she mulled. She'd wondered about that. Were the activities in the bedroom that strenuous that loose hair was a hazard?

After carefully crisscrossing her locks into a neat, thick braid, Jade stared at her handiwork and contemplated what was to come next.

She _did_ feel a little nervous about the wedding night, in spite of the fact that she'd spent the last three weeks daydreaming about being in Erik's arms. Since their engagement, he'd scarcely touched her except to kiss or caress her hands. She'd missed their previous intimacy.

_So why do I feel this way?_

The answer came to her with a pang of sadness. _It will all change, _she thought. Once she became a wife in the truest sense of the word, that part of her that had always been independent would be gone.

_His needs will become my needs, and mine will have to disappear._

But wasn't that how it had always been for women?

Jade sat up very straight, and took a long, last look at herself. Then she walked to the other bedroom, and peeked around the door.

Erik was sitting in bed and reading a book. He was wearing a robe with his chest partially bared and with the rest of him beneath the covers.

He was waiting for her.

All of a sudden, she felt shy and awkward. Stepping back, she leaned against the wall with her hands on her belly, and thought of what she had been doing to herself over the last three weeks. Erik had instructed her on how to stretch the inner walls of her body in order to prepare for tonight.

But now she wanted to return to her room, and deal with all this on another day.

Playing with the rings on her finger, she stole another look at the tall man who was casually sitting on the bed. Erik was acting as if this was an average night in his home.

He was wearing his mask, as usual.

A thought flashed through her mind. Now that they were husband and wife, would he be removing it tonight?

Stifling a groan, she stepped back and shut her eyes. _Please God,_ she prayed._ Not tonight. _It would be too much for one day—getting married, losing her virginity, and seeing Erik unmasked.

She breathed deeply for a minute to compose herself, and then entered the room.

Without looking at him, she moved to the bed and removed her robe, which she draped over a chair. Then she grabbed the blankets and prepared to slide into bed.

"Jade," she heard, as she bent over the covers. Slowly, she raised her head and looked up at him.

"Please come over here," Erik said casually as he patted the covers beside him. Mesmerized by his firm gaze, she walked around the bed and stood before him.

His eyes slowly traveled up and down her body, as his mouth opened with appreciation.

"Would you please undo your hair before coming to bed?" he asked with a seductive tone. He moved to the center of the bed and pulled the covers aside for her.

Gingerly, she sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him and reached for her hair. Erik's hands were there before hers and worked the tresses loose. He spread the hair across her shoulders, and then finished with a long, stroking motion along her back.

When she turned to him, he was lying in bed and gazing up at her with an intensity that made her flesh tingle. As she slid into bed, he reached over and pulled her to him. His arms wrapped around her, and he began to stroke her back with a soothing, repetitive motion. Sighing, she gradually relaxed under his touch.

He murmured into her ear, "There is no need to hurry. We have all night, my dear."

They lay together like that for some time with Erik's hands smoothly moving across her back. As she enjoyed his gentle touch, she was reminded of the rainy day months before when he'd suddenly appeared in the Arabian stallion's stall. His hands had moved across every part of the animal while she'd watched. At the time, she'd guessed that it had been done for her benefit—that he was showing her how he would touch her if she would allow it.

And now he was doing it to her—soothing away her fears.

_How many other women has he done this with?_ She considered distantly. She didn't mind that he was experienced. It was good that one of them had some knowledge in this area. The sensations were bringing her closer to him as he coaxed her into a comfortable bliss.

Lying next to him, his scent was all around her. It was a good smell. There was the ever present odor of candle smoke, and the smell of soap. _He must have bathed when I was sleeping, _she thought. And beneath it all was Erik's scent—interesting, and unique. Jade could still remember Jean-Luc's scent—that of horses, the lake, and that special odor he'd get when he'd been kissing her for awhile. Erik 's was different. The only thing she could compare it to was the music that he played. It was as subtle and complicated as the man himself.

Pressing her nose to his chest, she inhaled, and brushed his smooth skin with her lips. Opening her mouth, she touched him with her tongue. He had a light, salty taste. It was nice. Tentatively, she tasted him again only this time with a little sucking grasp of her mouth. In response, his muscles quivered.

By then, she was feeling very relaxed and a little playful. He was here beside her. Why not explore?

Raising herself, she glanced at his face. He was watching her intently. Undaunted, Jade lowered her head and began to slowly glide her lips across his chest.

In her last few months with Jean-Luc, they had played this game in order to satisfy his growing hunger for her. Jean-Luc had limited his kissing to her throat, afraid to go further. When it was her turn, he had unbuttoned the top part of his shirt and laid on the grass as he offered himself to her. Jade had tasted him repeatedly, until he had finally stopped her with an intense embrace.

Now here was Erik. He was her husband and there was nothing to prevent her from doing this as long as she wished.

Erik's sculpted body had so many dips and curves, and all of it was new. With her head bent over him, Jade immersed herself in that little world, and meandered across the silky terrain using her lips and fingers. One moment it was her tongue that followed the edge of his muscles, and the next, the tip of her nose. It was a dance of a sort, and Erik's quivering responses with the little noises he was making was encouraging.

She found his nipple. Pressing the surrounding skin together between her fingers caused it to protrude, and she grasped it with her mouth. As she ran her tongue around that hard, little nub of tissue, she nuzzled the surrounding area with her nose. Then she settled in and bit it lightly while stroking it with her tongue, playing with its firmness. She was beginning to really enjoy herself in these new sensations when a sudden loud groan interrupted her concentration.

"Enough!" Erik cried as he flipped her onto her back.

Wide-eyed, Jade stared up at him as his smoldering eyes hovered above her face.

"Are you trying to drive me mad?" he growled just before his lips met hers.

Erik pressed into her with a crushing kiss. When he pulled back, she gasped for air, and looked up at his looming form. He gave her a moment to catch her breath, and then he was back again at her mouth only this time using his tongue on her. Pinning her to the bed with his body, he pushed his hand against her forehead and guided her chin up which allowed him to reach deeper into her mouth.

"There," he said when he was finished, as he stared down at her with elation.

Lying very still, she gazed up at him. His hair was a little mussed and his skin was glowing from the amber light of the candles. He was beautiful. She wanted to reach up and lay her hands on his chest. Instead, she waited and wondered what he would do next.

He lay beside her and stroked her curves with slow, firm movements. Drawing closer, his lips grazed her ear as he spoke.

"I have wanted to touch you since I first saw you in the stable," he crooned softly. Jade shivered at his honey tone, and at the thought of Erik suddenly grabbing her in the stable before she had come to know and trust him. That thought sent a thrill along her spine. Then he kissed her, and his hands become bolder, more insistent.

The warmth of his palms against her breasts when he cupped and handled them was wonderful. The more he touched them, the more sensitive they became. With each squeeze, a shot of pleasure sprang between her legs. The mounting tension there was making it hard for her to focus on his kisses.

Erik raised himself off of her, and swept her body with his eyes as one hand continued to slowly stroke her. His robe had fallen open, revealing most of his chest. Jade's gaze moved across it to the shadows below. As he had pressed into her, she had occasionally felt the hardness of his manhood rub against her. She had never seen a naked man, and now she was wondering what a man's organ looked like.

It would be inside of her soon enough. Why not take a look?

"Erik," she said softly. "Would you please lie down?"

Settling next to her, he watched her with expectation.

Jade untied his robe and pushed the cloth aside.

His organ was large and purplish. Compared to the rest of him it was swollen and engorged. _So, this is what a man looks like when he's excited,_ she thought as her hands crept towards it. She touched it and it suddenly jerked.

"Don't," Erik gasped.

Surprised, her eyes darted to his. "Did that hurt?" she asked innocently.

He suddenly sat up and pulled her to him. Then he buried his face in her hair for a moment before speaking.

"If you touch me there, I won't be able to control myself," he said hoarsely.

She listened to his heart pounding and nodded. "I'll be careful," she said softly. Moving to his lips, she tugged at his lower one with hers.

"Please, Erik. Kiss me again."

As he kissed her deeply, she fell under his spell. _It's Erik doing this,_ she thought as she lay in his arms. It aroused her. His soft caressing lips that inched along her throat, his warm breath, it was unbelievably exciting.

His hands were moving across her body, and pressing on her belly and the sides of her thighs. She squirmed from the pleasure. He reached under her and suddenly scooped up her bottom, pushed her belly against his, and firmly held her there. She gasped from the sudden rush of sensation, and gave him a startled look. He had an absolutely wicked smile on his face as he stared down at her for a moment, and said under his breath, "that is what you get my dear, for teasing me."

_Teasing him?_ _He_ was the one who was leading her on with his endless touching. She had thought it would be fast, the coupling. But he was stretching it out, and making the tension nearly unbearable.

As he rocked his hips against her, she felt his hardness poke her leg, and she gasped. Would it hurt when he entered her? Now that it was insistently pressing against her, it no longer felt like a part of him. It was more like an entity that had suddenly entered their marriage bed, and was growing between them.

Erik slowly pushed her legs apart. His warm hands slid between her thighs, and his fingers stroked her skin with a lingering touch that maddened her. After a few minutes of it, her breathing became ragged.

Lying on her back, and gritting her teeth, she felt helpless under his onslaught. She lifted her head, and stared at him as he crouched intently over her, seemingly motionless. He looked like a master craftsman focused on a delicate task, frozen in concentration. His hands had worked their way higher up her inner thighs until the tips of his fingers were at the inner lips of her cleft. Gently, they prodded the area and she held her breath.

There was a quick wriggling motion of his fingers and an electric spark shot up her body. Reflexively, she closed her legs and trapped his hand between them, causing his fingers to slide inside of her.

Moaning, her eyes darted to his, and he gave her a tight smile.

"It is fine, Jade. I just wanted to see if you were ready."

_Ready? S_he thought with desperation. _How much longer is he planning on torturing me?_

Gently but firmly, Erik spread her legs and positioned himself between them.

When his stiff organ pushed against her opening and rubbed that moist part of her, it started a fire—an incredibly wet heat that moved up her body, and settled in the hollow of her throat where it throbbed. In turn, her heart began to pound as he continued to rub against her.

Biting her lip, she held back her need to cry out. This was immensely different than when she touched herself! His weight and silky skin against her belly added to the expanding feeling below as he slowly pushed into her. Each inch of his penetration stretched and filled her, creating a strange, new sensation. And, he was using his fingers—rubbing and stroking that exquisitely sensitive part of her, which was making her tremble.

As the pleasure escalated, she stared up at him. There was a riot of feelings on Erik's face—hunger, tenderness, and joy. He was like a god hovering above her and delivering ecstasy.

Shifting, he leaned on both his elbows, and thrust deeper into her. After a dozen or so thrusts, he took her head in his hand, and pressed her face to his neck as he continued with greater force.

"Kiss me, Jade," he groaned.

She did her best to comply but she was rapidly losing control of her body. Instead of a sensuous touch with lips and tongue she grasped his flesh with her mouth and hands. Erik cried out and intensified his thrusting.

Her release came hard and fast—a hot wave erupting from her center with throbbing spasms. Her muscles jerked and trembled in response to the rhythmic contractions inside of her. The room began to fade, and she heard a ragged moan outside of her. It seemed high up, beyond the room, somewhere in the world above. Her vision cleared, and she saw Erik's face twisted with the intensity of his release as he finished with the last of his thrusts. Then he stopped, and sank down upon her.

Rolling over onto his side, he carried her with him and remained inside of her for a minute longer before his body gradually eased out of hers.

They lay together silently. The tender place between her legs was still aching from spent pleasure as she breathed quietly with her head on his chest.

After a minute, his hands gently spread across her body and stroked her lightly. Jade shivered, and pulled away a little. It was all too intense and her exhausted nerves couldn't handle any more sensation, at least not for a little while. Erik stopped, and pulled her closer to him. Cradling her in his arms, he pressed his face into her hair and began to sing.

It was an intimate song of joy and consummate tenderness. The soft tones pacified her nerves, and lulled her to sleep. Dreamily, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes, which gazed back at her with an unexpected youthfulness. She briefly stroked his face with her palm, and he pressed into it. Sighing, she returned to her spot on his chest.

Shutting her eyes, she fell asleep.

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Erik held her in his arms until she slept. Then he carefully placed Jade onto her back, and gazed down at her.

He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The nightgown was bunched above her hips revealing hair that formed a perfect, alluring V. He brushed it lightly with his fingers. Then gently, he tugged the garment down, and restored her modesty.

The jade green silk shone in the candlelight, and fell in folds around her delicate, soft breasts. He'd gotten a little carried away in his love making and had at times squeezed them, but she hadn't seemed to mind it. On the contrary, the more he touched them, the more she had trembled. His hands had excited her.

Lying back, he pulled her to him and held her close.

It had been amazingly easy. After all the years of anticipation and longing, of standing behind mirrors watching the denizens of his opera house enjoy what he could not have, it had come naturally to him, this act of love.

When she came to his room, he had watched her from the corner of his eye as she lingered just outside the door. Shy and doe-like, he had waited for her to come to him. Once she was there, standing at his side with that silk gown clinging to her curves, he had wanted her badly.

However, when she was in his arms, her sudden stiffness had warned him that his consuming needs were only half of what was between them. She needed to be comforted before they could begin.

So, he had restrained his hunger long enough to gentle her and gain her trust.

Sighing, Erik stroked her hair and looked down at her lithe form. She fit perfectly in his arms.

He smiled when he thought of how eagerly she had touched him. He had shut his eyes and given himself up to those encompassing sensations. In his imaginings, he had never dreamt that it could feel that wonderful.

Gazing at her, he was filled with awe. That she could give him so much physical pleasure while also filling his heart…

With that thought, his erection returned. Pressing her close to him, he ran his lips across her forehead. Was this what they would have for the rest of their lives—endless sessions of touching and delicious penetration?

He felt almost giddy with joy. She was his, to hold and to love. She had given herself willingly and wanted his touch. He was no longer alone.

As she slept in his arms, he listened to her quiet breathing and felt her softly moving against him. If only he could keep her here with him through the night! But it wasn't possible since he needed to sleep in order to be fresh for tomorrow.

Hours later, he lifted Jade up, and carried her to the other bedroom where he laid her in the bed. After tucking the covers around her, he sat by her for a few minutes and stroked her hair. Then he rose and returned to his room.

Once there, Erik locked his door, and stood before the mirror. Staring at his reflection, he meditated on how it would be between them.

Their life would be one of beauty and music. He would take her to the opera, and to any place in this great city that she desired. If Jade wished it, they would travel and discover the world together. He would cherish her curiosity, and see the world anew through her eyes.

And they would make love, as often as she would allow, losing themselves in that exquisite act.

Carefully, Erik removed the mask, and ran his finger across the right side of his face. As he studied the devastation, the softness vanished from his face, and a steely look entered his eyes. All of his plans were dependent on one thing—she must not see what was behind the mask.

Stretching out on the velvet sheets, he relived the night—her touch, Jade's green eyes wide from pleasure. The way she had looked up at him when he was inside of her, the look of adoration… He shut his eyes and smiled. Loving her was a drug, and he intended to partake of it over and over again.

He recalled her serene sweetness as she gazed at him before falling asleep. Her heart was big, and perhaps someday she would come to accept him without the mask.

But for now, his face would remain hidden.

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**A/N: M rating.**

**Today is the anniversary of this story. I posted the first chapter of Night to Day a year ago.**

**When I started this, it was on a whim after a few weeks of reading phanfiction on ffdotnet. I thought I'd be done with it in several months but it took off and took over.**

**I'm grateful for the support I've gotten for this story. Your reviews and PM's have been wonderful and have helped me become a better writer. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, and letting me know that you're enjoying this. A big thanks to my special readers who review nearly every chapter. Hugs and red roses to you.**

**nativedreamer**


	49. Chapter 49 Opportunity

**Chapter 49 Opportunity**

Stepping out of the great cathedral of Notre Dame, Jade looked up at the gray tinged clouds billowing across the sky. Briskly, she walked through the wide plaza to the western end of the Ile de la Cite. There was a little park there, at the tip of the island, that she had spied from the Right Bank of the Seine but had never had the chance to visit.

Descending the stairs to the river below, she found a rough bench that was set back from the shore amid the large chestnut trees that crowded the island's point. At the river's edge were a dozen fishermen leaning over the water with gear in hand, hauling in their supper. The small silvery fish, the goujon, that hungrily grabbed the bait were quickly unhooked and dropped into half full buckets. Then wiry arms tossed the thin lines back into the sparkling water for another go.

A chilly breeze pushed off the river and pinched her face until her cheeks were rosy. Pulling her violet scarf about her, she settled against the tree, and watched the men jut their long, jointed cane poles over the water. At last, it was a clear day. Terse movements of arms tossing and retrieving fishing lines punctuated the silent meditation that suffused that spot. The men stood with half closed eyes and weight shifted to one hip, as they gazed peacefully at the wide river and the banks of the city that stretched ahead.

Lazily, Jade stared through the leafless branches at the sky. March was only a couple of days away and the river was still edged with sheets of ice. For some reason, that part of the island was free of it. _It must have something to do with the currents and backwaters, _she thought absently. _Erik might know why. _She made a mental note to ask him about it.

At the thought of him, she dreamily shut her eyes, and recalled their last three days.

The morning after her wedding, Jade awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and breakfast. Drowsily staring up at the bed's canopy, she tried to make sense of where she was. _When did we come back to this room?_ The last thing she remembered was hearing Erik's soft, sweet voice in her ear—a beautiful tenor that flitted through her dreams.

After dressing, she entered the front room and found Erik setting out their breakfast. _I should be doing that, _she thought with a twinge of guilt. His tall form bent over the repast as he placed the final touch on the table—a large crystal vase filled with white lilies.

He turned to her with piercing eyes, and she felt a rush of warmth. He looked young, younger than ever before, with a smooth face and black hair. His white shirt hung off his shoulders and fell open at a perfect, unmarred neck. _Different from mine, _she mused. Jade's had several love bites at the base of her neck, which she had not bothered to cover. Erik's eyes rested on them for a moment, and he gave her a slow, sensuous smile. Pulling out her chair, he gracefully motioned for her to sit.

So their married life began.

For the next three days, they hovered close to each other over meals, books, and music. Jade would be sitting at the table and pouring over a book, when a whisper of air signaled that he was at her side, staring down at her. She'd look up at eyes, which teemed with life. He'd step an inch closer and the magnetic force between them would commence with its battery of subtle pressures and not so subtle desires churning inside of her, and working their way to her glowing skin.

Face flushed with passion, she scarcely understood her tumultuous, new feelings. There was an aching for his hands, and pain when he'd leave her side even for a moment. It was akin to madness the way she needed to feel his proximity at all times. When they sat on the couch together, she would position herself as close to him as it was decently possible without giving herself away, and showing that she was completely besotted with him.

_It's probably pointless to pretend that I'm not, _she thought with some dismay. All of her cool independence seemed to have vanished. And his smug, cat-like look of pleasure told her that he knew it—she was utterly his.

They made love each night. He'd lead her to his bedroom, and leave her to dress in the newest creation he had laid out for her: filmy silk, or fine satin nightgowns. Then she'd sit in bed and wait for him to come to her wearing a robe that barely hid his excitement. One night, he sat on the bed and said nothing to her for long minutes while staring into her eyes. When he finally slid in next to her, she was covered with goose bumps, and desperately trying not to throw herself at him.

Opening her eyes, Jade watched the sturdy backs of the fishermen whose hunched shoulders faced the river. One of the men had a small boy with him. Each time the man brought in a fish, he would show the child how to pull the hook out of its mouth, and then place the slippery, struggling body into those small hands. The boy would then reverently carry the fish to the zinc bucket, as his eyes remained fixed on the man.

The child's delicate features reminded Jade of Gillian. As she watched the little boy lean towards his companion with his face tipped up in adoration, a pang of longing hit her. Vaguely, she wondered if Erik enjoyed fishing. She was certain the Pierre would.

A half hour later, she rose, approached one of the men, and asked if he'd sell her some of the goujon he'd caught. Placing the fish bundled in newsprint into her basket, she hoisted up her skirts and mounted the steps. As she climbed the slope, le Pont Neuf towered to her left with its high arches. Along the bridge's horizontal edge were gargoyle heads with puffed up cheeks and twisted stone faces that challenged the air. Staring up at those fierce, grotesque heads, she wondered why they had been put there. The gargoyles of Notre Dame made sense since they were meant to repel evil from that house of worship. But why locate them on a bridge? Had sailors been fearful that malicious imps would lurk under those spans and hungrily drop onto their heads as they traveled along the Seine? Or had some stone mason bribed an official who had ordered that a few hundred extra ornaments be added to that structure?

_That's what Erik might say, _she thought with a smile. The man was full of cynical, witty remarks about historic Paris.

Gazing at the bridge, she wished it were the day's end. Twice she had seen it at a distance when its arches were lit up like scythes of burning gold.

After strolling along the streets of the first arrondissement, Jade entered a brightly painted café-bakery that was noisily filled with people. Taking a table outside, she leisurely watched the carriages and people that passed by. Although it was rather nippy, sitting there was still a luxury—one she hadn't indulged in before. She felt absolutely decadent as she nibbled on her pastry, and watched a man a few tables down sketch the people who stood outside a nearby assommoir.

She'd already paid her weekly visit to Meley's grave. The vigorous walk to and from the cemetery had been refreshing. And in a few hours, she would go to Jean and Manette's home for dinner.

Yesterday, when Erik had suggested that she spend today outside of their home, she had jumped at the opportunity. The past month had been exciting and endlessly stimulating, but still there were times when the isolation and unending darkness of their hidden home had worn on her.

"But Erik, do you think I should go for the entire day? There's a great deal to do here," she said to him as she eyed the dusty tapestry on the wall. Erik had done a fine job of housekeeping but there were still plenty of things that needed attending. Now that she was his wife, it was her job to keep house.

Handing her a cloak, he smiled gently and replied smoothly, "It is time for you to take in some sunlight. You are not accustomed to the endless darkness as I am. If you do not take an occasional holiday, I fear you will soon tire of our home."

That morning, when they parted at the iron-gate, he caressed her fingers with his long pale ones, and said, "I will meet you in the plaza at nine o'clock tonight, my dear wife." A second later, he disappeared.

_Perhaps he's glad for the time alone, _Jade meditated as she sipped her coffee and finished the pastry. While she was gone, he could return to his bachelor ways. _He'll be able to remove the mask when I'm not there,_ she mulled.

Jade had thought that by now Erik would have revealed himself to her. She'd spent the time since their engagement preparing for the inevitable shock. Last night, when he rose above her and thrust deeply inside her body, she had watched him with eyes half closed from pleasure. As he tipped his face upwards in ecstasy, she briefly wondered what it would be like to see him with only half a face looking down on her.

Suddenly, the image arose of Erik peeling the mask from his face, and revealing a gargoyle's beneath.

Shivering, she pushed the thought out of her mind._ Erik is wiser than me. When the time is right, he will show me._ Until then, she would accept his need for privacy.

The only thing that bothered her was that each morning she found herself neatly returned to her bed without her husband at her side.

_A small price for happiness_, she pondered as she finished her coffee.

Pulling her scarf close to her face, she rose and headed east.

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The sweet smell of cooked meat wafted from the kitchen as Manette basted the roasting fowl. Covering the pot, she held her lower back as she straightened. There was a twinge of stiffness there that had been absent a fee days before. Jean glanced up from his newspaper, and his eyes followed her as she cleaned the crisp salad greens. Rising, he went to her, and circled her broad waist with his arms as he tenderly kissed her neck.

"Is your back bothering you?" he murmured as his hands gently stroked the spot where she had pressed her hand.

Sighing, she leaned into him a bit and pushed her neck into his lips. "Just the tiniest amount," she said softly, and turned to him.

When Jade knocked on their door, she interrupted their lingering kiss.

Entering the kitchen, Jade set about cleaning the fish. Jean stood next to her, and pestered her for a bit until he finally grabbed one off the paper and waved it under Manette's nose. "Fresh from the waters of our great river!" he joked.

Smiling, Manette watched her bustling figure with bright eyes. It had been too long since she'd last had one of those tasty, little fish.

An hour later, they feasted on chicken, salad, friture of goujon, and an excellent white wine that Jade had brought.

As Jean sopped up the tangy sauce with his bread, he stared at Jade thoughtfully. _She appears to be happy, _he considered. There was a softness about her that he hadn't seen since she'd last been with Gillian. And, there was something else—a glow of sexual energy that was unmistakable. Manette had had that same look when they were first married, as if she was floating on a cloud. _She definitely looks content,_ he meditated as he poured himself another glass of wine. Closing his eyes, he assessed the crisp flavor that suffused his tongue. _There are some advantages to having a friend who is married to a wealthy man, _he reflected as he relished the wine's superb finish.

Manette and Jade were laughing about something that had happened at the opera house the other day—a temper tantrum by one of the singers. The two women were leaning close to each other with their dark heads nearly touching. Watching them, he wondered what future secrets they would soon be sharing about their husbands. Soon, he and M. Marsolais would have something more in common besides two, pretty wives.

After they finished their meal, they settled by the fire. Jean turned to Jade, and kept his face under control as he prepared to launch his latest scheme.

"Jade, now that you're married, have you considered coming back to the opera house for a visit?" he queried casually.

Something in his eyes alerted Jade, and she looked at him carefully. Then she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Manette was shaking her head as if warning Jean to keep still.

Giving Jade a steady look, he continued.

"The other day, Emile quit the opera house. We're now short one person in set design." He paused and stared at the fire for a moment as if waiting for his words to sink in. Then he continued. "If you're interested, I think I could talk DuChant into letting you return, and work on my crew," he said easily.

With needle stopped in midair, she looked at him dumbfounded. "Me? You want me to work with you?" she asked with astonishment.

"Yes, " Jean replied swiftly, as if he were a turtle snapping up a nice, plump bug. "Why not? You are very fond of art, and this would be a chance for you to learn! I'd only need you a few days a week, so there would be plenty of time for you to be at your home."

Blinking, Jade set down the christening dress that she was working on, and then eyed Jean in disbelief. His face was shining as he firmly held her gaze.

"Jean, she may have her hands full setting up her new home," Manette said with a soft, warning tone. Then she turned sympathetic and curious eyes to her friend.

Bowing her head, she avoided Manette's gaze. She was acutely aware that her friends still didn't know where she lived. Maybe this was a way for them to keep tabs on her.

She played with the lace ruffle on the tiny white gown as she stalled for time. She knew she must be careful. However, at that moment, she wanted to throw caution aside and simply enjoy the excitement of this unexpected opportunity. Jade adored Jean's work, and if there was a possibility that she could learn from him, and someday become an artist…

Raising her head, she looked at him intently. "Will you teach me what you know?" she asked a little breathlessly.

"Of course," he replied as he leaned forward and clasped her hands. Then he gave her a broad smile.

0000

Later that evening, after Jade had left by carriage, Manette brushed her hair out in front of the mirror while Jean sat in bed and watched. _He's impossible, _she thought as she met his eyes in the mirror. He hadn't told her about his scheme to bring their friend back into their circle. It was so like Jean to ambush them both after dinner.

Setting the brush down, she entered the bed. Immediately, Jean's hands were on her stroking her large belly and massaging her stiff back. She gave herself up to his soothing ministrations, and decided it was pointless to discuss what had happened. Jean would do what he thought was best, regardless of what she said. Perhaps something good would come from it all.

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The carriage bumped along the cobbled street beneath the lamplight while Jade rode within. Her head periodically tapped the seat, as she thought of Jean's offer. It was a chance to get back to the opera house, and the stable. But would Erik agree to it?

She had never tried to persuade him before, and was wondering how to proceed. Would it be best to speak with him about the matter as soon as they returned to their home, or should she wait until they were in bed? And if so, should she do it before they made love or after?

The thought of negotiating with Erik over something that she wanted this badly was both exciting and nerve wracking.

When the carriage stopped, she stepped out onto the pavement of the Place de l'Opera and stared across the expanse at the giant building. A sliver of new moon graced the night sky. She was only there for a few moments when a tall, dark form separated from the shadows.

In a few seconds he was next to her. He moved like a phantasm, one without feet that bore down upon her like the wind. When his black cloak pressed against hers, a thrill ran through her.

Taking her hand, Erik silently guided her through a side door of the opera house to a hidden passage that took them to the lake. Jade felt a little breathless as he rushed her along. When they came to the boat, he effortlessly lifted her in, and then rapidly paddled the craft to their home.

As they stepped into the front room, Erik slipped her cloak off her shoulders. Jade immediately went to the kitchen. She had decided to speak with him about Jean's offer as soon as they arrived home. That way, if a disagreement arose, they could smooth it out before they went to bed.

Erik was seated at his worktable, and staring at some diagrams when she carried the wine to him. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow and waited. Trying to remain calm, Jade casually sat across from him, and barely sipped from her own glass as she looked at his hands.

"I had a lovely day today," she began. She raised her eyes to his, and gazed into their knowing depths.

"I am very glad to hear that, my dear," he replied softly. He dragged out the last syllable a bit, and caressed her with his voice. "Did anything eventful happen while you were above?"

Her eyes took on a dreamy look as she thought of Jean's paintings. Softly, her mouth opened as she traveled to the inventive forms and brilliant colors plastered on the canvases. When she came back to the room, and focused on Erik's face, she met a look of tender, probing curiosity.

Sighing, she dropped her eyes to her glass, and swirled the liquid around a moment before beginning.

"Jean told me that he would be willing to teach me how to paint," she said quietly. Then she raised her chin, and gave him a keen look. "He's asked me to return to the Opera Populaire a few days a week and help him with the sets."

"I see," Erik replied slowly. His long hand was resting on the table between them, and was perfectly relaxed. The silence deepened, and Jade blinked several times before lowering her eyes. After a few minutes, she rose, and went to her room where she removed her clothes and ran a bath.

As she soaped her body, she put aside her desire for art, and the excitement of returning to the opera house. There were many reasons Erik might oppose her working there. They hadn't been married a week, and she was already talking about leaving him. It would be understandable if he balked at the idea.

On the other hand, she would be working here, under his nose if he wanted to see her. She would be in his domain. Also, it would make her comings and goings to the outside world much easier if she could move freely in the opera house without raising suspicion.

Stepping from the bath, she dried herself with the thick, white towel, and stared at her body. It hadn't begun to show yet, but she was definitely beginning to get soft. If she couldn't ride the stable horses, she would have to find another way to ride.

After brushing out her hair, she put on the white silk nightgown that she had found on her bed. The sleeves were long and full at the end, and it had a graceful train that brushed the thick carpets. She walked to and fro in front of her mirror to study its effect, and then laughed. _He's trying to change me, _she thought. What would be next? Jewels?

Holding her head high, she decided to play along with his fantasy, at least for tonight.

Erik was already in bed waiting for her, and he looked up as she approached. With luminous eyes, Jade moved slowly towards him as she watched his mouth soften, and his eyes brighten with hunger. On reaching the bed, she stood there for a moment so that he could take her in. Then she reached for the covers.

Before she could slip into bed, he raised his hand and signaled for her to stop. "Jade," he said, and paused.

Curious, she waited.

"I wish to see you without your nightgown tonight," he continued with a low voice.

A slight blush stained her cheeks as she searched his dark green eyes. Then she turned away from him, and sat on the edge of the bed. Slowly, she pulled the thin gown over her head. Breathing quickly, she pressed it to her chest while her bare back and bum were exposed to his eyes. Then taking in a deep breath, she brought her legs together and swung them onto the bed where she lay on her back with her bunched up gown held against her breasts and stomach.

Erik gazed at her for a moment, and placed his hand over hers. Slowly, he pulled the gown out of her hands. Then he continued to stare down at her.

With her hands at her sides, Jade shut her eyes and felt tingling warmth cross her entire body. She wondered if she was blushing from head to toe. A moment later, his hands were on her breasts, gently covering them. His large palms were warm, and she sighed from the contact. At that moment, she felt as if she was again a virgin—shy and retiring. Opening her eyes, she met Erik's, which brimmed with ardor. She reached up and pulled him to her so that his body covered her nakedness.

Flesh against flesh was comforting at first but quickly changed to excitement. Each silky movement of his skin rubbing hers added to the thrill. Then his wet mouth took hold of her breast and suckled it causing her to tremble. She lay helplessly on the pillows with his hands pulling her to him as he feasted on her. She couldn't see his face, just the contrast between the white mask, pale forehead and black hair as his head moved with a rolling motion that matched the warmth of his mouth and the snaking action of his tongue.

Shutting her eyes, she tried to sink into the bed and withdraw from that eager laving that was almost too strong. She wanted to touch him, but felt paralyzed by the overpowering sensations. At one point, her body did the opposite of what her mind intended as she suddenly grasped his head and pulled him impossibly closer into the soft mound of her breast. Groaning, he paused for a second, and then continued with more intensity. For a minute longer, she skated the sharp waves of pleasure until she finally cried out, "Stop," in a weak, pleading voice.

A moment later, he was inside of her.

They rode each other with measured thrusts so that she felt every inch of him as he slowly entered and withdrew. Erik had learned some of the secrets of her body, and now knew how to excite her without using his fingers. While he moved rhythmically inside of her, she stroked his sides, and ran her hands along his chest as they rocked together. When he sped up a little, she grasped his butt and pulled him close, which set off a whistling intake of air between his teeth and a rough grunt of pleasure.

Deeper he pushed into her, and her body swelled and grasped his. As they came closer to their climax, he bent down and breathed into her ear. "I love you, my little wife. It is me you feel between your legs. It is me who carries you to the angels."

Erik continued to speak to her with soft murmurings until she climaxed, and cried his name several times. In response he thrust harder into her until he too was released.

They finished and finally separated. As she snuggled next to his firm chest, the inevitable pull of deep sleep was upon her. Jade stared sleepily into his face and wondered how he appeared when he slept after their lovemaking. Did he have the same beautiful, serene expression that she'd accidentally seen a month ago? She wanted to know.

Vaguely, she drifted away on a heavy sea of entwined limbs and silky fingers slipping down her back. In the distance, she thought she heard a voice saying, "As you wish, my dear."

**

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**A/N: M rated material at the bottom of this chapter.**

**An assommoir is a wine shop/tavern.**


	50. Chapter 50 Discovery

**Chapter 50 Discovery**

Swirling her brush in the pail's muck, Jade carefully transferred the rabbit skin glue to the giant canvas. As she crouched over the heavy cloth, she aimed for the furthest corner and stretched her aching shoulder. With a slow, even stroke, she painstakingly applied the primer.

Sweat fell into her eyes, and she wiped her forehead with the back of her glue-crusted hand while staring at the slick, moist surface. At the far end of the canvas was an embedded fly. Frowning, she reached for it.

"Good work, Jade," Jean said as he stood behind her. "At this rate, you'll be done within the hour. When you're finished, you can leave. I won't be needing you until Monday."

Glancing up at him, she gave him a quick smile, and then returned to the job.

An hour later, her hands were in a bucket of cold water, scrubbing off dried glue. After rubbing her face with a damp cloth, she hurried to a small room down the hall where she kept her change of clothes. It was late. If she ran, she could make it to her appointment on time.

As she pulled her skirt off the peg on the wall, she sensed something behind her, and spun around. Erik loomed over her a scant foot away.

_My heart is nearly in my throat!_ She wanted to hiss at him. It was the second time that week he'd appeared out of nowhere.

Chuckling dryly, he gently pushed her against the wall. Slowly, his hands encircled her waist as his lips slid up her throat. "Would you deny me my right to see my little wife whenever I wish?" he crooned in a low voice. He pressed harder, and his teeth raked her jaw line.

For a frantic moment, Jade thought that he intended to have her there, and a dark thrill ran through her as she stared at the unlocked door. Then, with a slight smile, he backed away and gazed down at her. Composing herself, she reached past him, locked the door, and changed her clothes under his sparkling eyes.

"You are going to the market?" he asked as she reached for her cloak.

Avoiding his eyes, she quickly replied, "Yes. And afterwards, I'll be going to a café to meet with a friend. I plan to be back at the gate by six."

His leather-clad fingers lifted her chin, and lightly followed the curve of her throat to her breast while he stared at her intently. Then he turned, and left through the door that appeared in the wall.

Shaking her head, Jade watched his broad shoulders sweep out of the room, and wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to his popping in and out.

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With a heavy basket, Jade worked her way through the busy café, and headed towards Pierre. His blue shirt was buttoned to the top, and cast a cool, strangled hue onto his gloomy face. As she drew near, a lump settled in her throat. He looked even sadder than he had on her wedding day three weeks ago.

Seeing her, his face lit up. Then he caught himself, and assumed a polite smile. Jade sat down, took his hands, and firmly held them until that distant smile faded and warmth returned to his eyes.

"You look well, Jade," he said with a touch of hoarseness.

"As do you, Pierre," she solemnly replied.

He cleared his throat. "Michel and the rest of my family send their regards. Have you received Marie's wedding invitation?" His eyes roamed across her hair and face.

"Yes, I'm planning on attending. I wanted to ask you about a gift. Do you know what she and her future husband need?"

Pierre waved down the waitress and ordered a light meal. By the time the food came, they'd finished discussing his sister's upcoming wedding in April, and had moved on to his family's vineyard.

"Lucien tore out the entire vineyard as you suggested," he said. "We have the new vine stock, and are ready to plant as soon as the weather allows." As he cut his fillet of beef, Jade watched the knife's sawing motion, and could see huge piles of rotting vines eerily burning into the night.

_The whole vineyard destroyed! Dear God, let Erik be right, _she prayed.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry Jade. At the rate the vineyard was failing, there would have soon been nothing left. Lucien was willing to take the risk. He's grateful for your advice. "

In spite of his words, she still felt uneasy. If their plan failed, Lucien and his family would have to go to America since Pierre's brother had decided against relocating to Paris. He was determined to farm, even if it were on another continent. And if the family crossed the ocean, Michel would go with them.

The possibility of not seeing Michel again saddened her.

While Pierre ate, he told her about his plan to buy land instead of building an addition onto his home.

"Who will keep house for you when Marie marries?" Jade asked as she absently poked at her frozen pudding.

With a shrug, he replied, "There's a neighbor who will come by and do the cleaning and some of the cooking. I'll manage the rest."

Often when she thought of him, she'd recall that night when she'd dined at his home with his sister and nephews. It had been a perfect evening with Pierre happily sitting by the fire with those he loved. Now what she saw was a dark, empty house, and Pierre eating alone.

She looked up to see him watching her with a strange look on his face. It was the same expression she'd recently gotten from some of the men on her work crew—an odd mixture of longing and excitement. She had shrugged it off, but here it was again only this time from Pierre.

Looking past her, his face settled into a more distant expression as he casually asked, "How is your new home?"

"It's fine," she carefully replied. "We live alone without servants, and I keep house. I prefer it that way. I don't think I'd be comfortable running a large household and constantly telling people what they must do." Glancing at the shiny, new wicker basket at her side, she took in the brightly colored produce that she'd bought earlier. It was wonderful to be able to buy what ever struck her fancy.

Pierre nodded amiably. "Yes, I can understand that."

After mentioning her daily routine of cleaning and cooking, she leaned towards him with a twinkle in her eye. "My husband has been teaching me exotic recipes from around the world. Did you know that lamb stew tastes better when you add cinnamon?" Both of them laughed.

"So, you're back in the opera house again," he said with a meaningful look as he sipped his coffee.

Nodding, she smiled brightly. "At this time, I'm only doing basic apprentice chores but I'm learning something new each day as I watch the others."

As she explained the details of her work, Pierre leaned back and gave her his full attention. He was a good listener, and asked about her impressions as well as the mechanics of the job. His eyes gleamed as she described the swish of heavy backcloths being raised and lowered above the stage, the penetrating odor of paint, and the new designs that sprung from skilled hands.

Pierre's rapt interest reminded her of Erik. After work, she'd sit with him and tell him about her day. Often, her thoughts and feelings rushed out like those of a child who couldn't hold back. At such times, Erik would fix his gaze on her with the utmost patience. It always amazed her. He was a great musician and yet he was listening to the impressions of a raw apprentice! Sharing her experiences with him was intoxicating.

Afterwards, she'd go to the kitchen to prepare supper. But food was the last thing on her mind. Her hands would caress the rough pots and tingle as she thought of what would come when they were in bed.

Jade's eyes met Pierre's. That strange look was back but instead of avoiding it, she returned his gaze.

Reaching across the table, he squeezed her hand. "You look happy, Jade. I'm glad to see that married life agrees with you."

Leaving the café, they stepped outside onto the crowded sidewalk. The street was full of carts and carriages with a clatter that drowned out their voices. As Jade waited for a cab to approach, she followed Pierre with her eyes and laughed when he spoke a bon mot into her ear. Opening the carriage door, Pierre helped her inside with her basket. Then hanging over the window, he took her hand, and pressed it to his lips for a long moment. With a brisk nod of his head, he bid her farewell.

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Arriving at the iron-gate, Jade unlocked it and slipped in. Hidden in the darkness was the boat, tucked under a shelf of rock. After dragging the craft to the water, she sat on an empty crate and waited. For once Erik was late, and she was glad for it. As she sat in the cool darkness with her elbows propped on her knees and her chin resting on her hands, she meditated over her visit with Pierre.

Minutes later, the gate creaked, and a tall figure silently glided towards her.

Erik loaded the basket into the boat, and helped her into the bobbing craft. The dim light hid his face, and he said nothing as they floated home. It was just as well. Jade welcomed the silence as she continued to ponder Pierre's loneliness.

Once inside their home, she quickly moved through the rooms as she replaced candles and restocked the pantry. She wasn't hungry but it was late, and she needed to get supper ready for Erik. Pulling out the bread bowl, she emptied flour into it, and was reaching for the leavening when Erik entered the kitchen. Glancing up at him, she froze. He was leaning against the doorframe, and staring at her with a tight lipped, chilling expression.

Slowly, she untied her apron as she held his gaze. Then she cautiously stepped past him into the front room. Sitting down on the divan, she intently watched him close the distance between them, and pull up a chair.

"What is it, Erik?" she asked evenly as she hid her alarm.

"Is there something that you wish to tell me?" he queried. His eyes burned into hers.

Studying him, Jade assessed his mood. He was obviously angry with her over something, but what? Mentally retracing her steps, she realized that he must have found out about her visit with Pierre.

Lifting her chin, she gave him a measured look and replied, "I saw Pierre Aubert today after I went to the market. Is that what you want to know about?" Tension squeezed her shoulders.

With piercing eyes, he replied with a supremely controlled voice, "You neglected to mention that it was he whom you would be meeting when you went to the café today. _If you would be so kind_ as to explain why you omitted that fact…" His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Abruptly, Jade stood up. Holding in her temper, she moved towards the front door. Her shoulder muscles were taut bands that needed release. If she could only stretch a little, she could calmly face her irate, accusing companion.

She'd walked several feet when suddenly Erik was in front of her with his hands like vises on her shoulders.

"Do not walk away from me when I am speaking to you!" he hissed.

"Let go of me this instant!" she shouted with blazing eyes.

Struggling against his unrelenting grip, she suddenly lunged forward, with her fist aimed at his solar plexus. His hands immediately loosened, and she spun out of his reach.

Erik partially doubled over and gasped for air. Straightening, he glared at her. Before he could take a step, Jade imperiously raised her hand.

"If you touch me again, you will never bed me," she croaked with fury.

They breathed heavily as they stared each other down. Then she edged towards the divan and Erik followed. Sitting down, Jade waited awhile before speaking.

_This is madness, _she thought as she fought her anger. _Erik is still jealous of Pierre!__Nothing happened between us. We were only talking, _she considered as she gazed at Erik's pale face. _Why is he so upset?_

She wanted to shake her head and shake him as well. His temper was deplorable. Her shoulders were smarting from his grip. Yet, she had to admit that she was partly to blame for his distrust. _If I had told him about my visit…It's just that I didn't want him to say no to it._

Gazing at him, she saw that the steeliness was gone, replaced by wariness, and something else. _Regret?_

She sighed, and shut her eyes for a minute. When she opened them, her face had softened.

"Erik, I knew it might be a problem if I didn't tell you about my visit with Pierre. However, I was afraid that it would upset you." Her eyes were large and tender as she reached for his hand. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you."

Suddenly, he was next to her, and fiercely pulling her close to him. Pressing his lips into her hair, he held her tightly for a long moment and said huskily, "Am I hurting you?"

Shaking her head 'no', she rested in his arms and let out a deep sigh. Then she squirmed free and kissed his neck.

He scooped her up, and carried her to the bedroom where he laid her on the bed. Climbing in next to her, he gathered her into his arms, and held her until their breathing calmed. Her hand was against his chest and he began to kiss the tips of her fingers. With her free hand, Jade cupped his face.

She said softly, "I think it would be best if we discuss this."

The kissing stopped and he coolly replied. "What is there to discuss, Jade? If I were to ask you not to see him again, would you agree to it?"

Blinking, she stared keenly at him, and answered. "Why must that be the only choice? He is no longer your rival but a dear friend of mine. Don't you trust me?"

"Then you admit that he was once my rival?" he asked sternly.

Shutting her eyes, she nodded slowly and gave him a long, earnest look. "Last year, I loved you both. But when I realized that it was love, I made my choice. I chose _you_, Erik. On the night that you played the music that drove me away, I chose you."

"He is not your rival," she said firmly as she caressed his face.

Erik traced her lips with his finger before kissing her. Opening her mouth, she welcomed his soft, insistent lips. Their kiss deepened, and he lingered over her with his sweeping tongue. Afterwards, Jade rested her head on his chest.

"If it hadn't been for Pierre, I don't believe we would have found each other, " she said quietly.

"What do you mean?" he murmured into her hair.

She hesitated before answering. How could she put into words what she knew in her heart? Pierre had opened the door, and when Erik appeared, she'd stepped through it.

"Before I met Pierre, I didn't trust others."

"Jean-Luc?" he asked as he gently stroked her back.

Lifting her head up she stared into his eyes, and then returned to her comfortable spot against him. "Yes, and more," she replied distantly.

"Tell me about him," he coaxed.

Settling against his warm, lean body, she told him about the sweet boy who had loved her with all his heart. But unlike the time she had told her story to Pierre, when she was half drunk, there were no tears. Instead, she felt a deep peace as she relived the memories. It was then that she realized that Pierre had been right—she hadn't lost Jean-Luc when she decided to love again. He was still with her.

As she lay next to Erik and felt his gentle hand, her heart was nearly bursting with love for both the man who had died and the man who lay beside her.

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Erik slowly stroked her silky skin, and prolonged their delicious exchange.

_You have bewitched me, _he thought as he leaned on one elbow and stared into her jade green eyes.

They were naked with the blanket bunched around their hips as they pressed together. Her dreamy look was back, and he was smiling at it. It was an expression that was uniquely hers—a mixture of enchantment and knowledge as she merged with a world only she could see. He had only to touch her and suddenly he belonged there as well, as she opened herself to him and shared her bounty.

Reaching for her breast, his thumb slid around her nipple in a slow, pressing circle. She leaned back with parted lips and half closed eyes, and made that lovely sound that invited deeper contact. While sliding his lips along her stomach, he unwittingly touched her shoulder and she groaned. Stopping, he stared at her intently, as he gently brushed his fingers around the bruises that he had caused in his fit of anger. From the bedside table, he retrieved a jar and gently reapplied cool salve to the marks.

"I am very sorry, my dear," he said tenderly.

"It is nothing," she murmured, and gazed at him with forgiving eyes.

_Nothing, _he pondered. _No, it is indeed something to jeopardize your trust, my dearest wife. Never again._ But he knew that it was a promise he might not be able to keep.

Still, she had stopped him cold before he could injure her further, and he was grateful for that. Her resourcefulness had saved them both.

He continued to kiss her slowly and gently.

Scarcely an hour before he had been angry. Watching the way that man had helped her into the carriage, and seeing the joy on her face as she spoke with him—he had realized that their bond was even stronger than before. Then Jade had returned home and instead of coming to him, and pouring out the delightful impressions of her day, she had turned away. The farmer had stolen the confidences that should have been his.

But tonight, she had opened her heart to him. She had lain on his chest and breathed out her history. And like a parched soil, he had soaked in her trust and joy, which sated his long held need for intimacy.

She was the most exquisite creature in the world, and she was his.

Over the last two weeks, Erik had smugly watched as men's heads turned when Jade passed them in the opera house. She was a woman whose sensuality was in full bloom. There was a heat coming off her, and a faint perfume of love that men found irresistible.

Her hands floated up to him and caressed his chest. Erik stared at them for a moment. _They're almost as small as a child's, _he thought with affection.Shutting his eyes, he arched into her touch. She pulled him to her and kissed his face, and his chest. Sighing, he yielded, and then hardened as her warm lips moved lower.

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It was raining when Jade stepped from the carriage, and stood on the sidewalk in front of the old tenement house in the tenth arrondissement. It was the first of April, and a little over two months since she had lived in that dreary building. Stepping into the hall, she knocked on the worn door. In a moment, Mme. Pissaro stood before her. Clasping her hands, she pulled Jade into the cozy apartment.

Nothing had changed since her last visit. The wallpaper with faded, red roses that climbed a trellis was still there as well as the green velvet drapes. Glancing around the room, Jade remembered those bone chilling nights where this had been her only haven.

An hour later, Mme. Pissaro refilled the teapot, and again offered the plate of radishes to her guest. She watched as the young woman eagerly took several more. Then she settled into her large, velvet upholstered chair by the fire, and poured them both a cup of tea.

They had spent the evening talking about household matters. Jade had asked her friend questions that a newly married woman would have typically asked her mother. In turn, Madame had asked her about her home and her husband. When Jade told her about his black hair and broad shoulders, the older woman's eyelids fluttered, and her large flat bosom heaved. Mme. Pissaro was a genuine romantic.

Picking up her cup, Jade sipped the hot beverage as she steadily regarded the gray haired woman. She had yet to ask her the most important of her questions. Their eyes met, and the older woman nodded briefly as if encouraging her to speak her mind. Taking in a deep breath, Jade responded.

"Mme. Pissaro, when you were first pregnant, how long was it before you knew?"

The corners of the older woman's eyes crinkled as she looked at her over her teacup. "Well, my dear, most women know when they miss their monthly visitor."

Nodding, Jade put her cup down, and lifted her chin as she squarely faced the woman. "I know. However, I've never had it occur regularly, that is, every month. Sometimes I go for two or three months before it happens."

Mme. Pissaro thoughtfully eyed her. "What makes you think that this time it's different?"

Shrugging, Jade stared down at her belly and replied, "My breasts feel fuller than usual, and they're a little tender. And oddly, I feel a bit bloated, only not just in my stomach, but all over." Looking up at the other woman, she asked, "Do I look different?"

Leaning forward, Mme. Pissaro asked, "Is your stomach uneasy in the morning when you first awaken?"

Shaking her head 'no', Jade stared back with a serious expression.

"Have you mentioned this to your husband, my dear?"

Jade lowered her eyes and looked away. "No," she said softly. "I though it would be best to wait until I was certain."

In their time together, Erik hadn't mentioned children. She had no idea how he would feel about a pregnancy. Was it too soon? Would he dislike the idea of a squalling baby and dirty nappies? Not every man was like Jean.

And if she were pregnant, how would he feel about curtailing their current intimacies? He truly enjoyed making love. Would he resent the baby?

Touching her stomach lightly, Jade shut her eyes and remembered Gillian's face. Their child would probably not have her fair hair. But she or he might have that same, fiery spirit that had lit up Jade's life.

Slowly, she smiled as she felt a stirring of joy inside of her. _Erik's child…yes, he or she will be extraordinary. _

Opening her eyes, she met those of Mme. Pissarro. The older woman was smiling back, and nodding her head with approval.


	51. Chapter 51 Love

**Chapter 51 Love**

Dashing across the exercise pen, Jade chased the Arabian stallion. When she reached him, she tapped his rump with her stick. With a burst of speed he flew past her bucking wildly, and then whirling around, he held his head at a jaunty angle as he dared her to continue their game.

_Maybe this will wear you out a little, _she thought wryly as she leaned on the rail and caught her breath.

Lately, the chocolate colored stallion had been driving Rascon to distraction with his tricks. Yesterday the stable manager had cornered her, and roughly declared that if she didn't exercise that horse, he would.

Looking up at the great curve of the opera house's dome, she wondered if she could persuade Erik to take the horse out for an occasional ride. In a few months she'd be too pregnant for these games.

Velvety lips brushed her shoulder and pulled her back to the pen. She smiled at the warm puff of breath on her neck. Gently, she reached back, and touched the stallion's silky head. Attaching a line to his halter, she led him to the stable.

Back in his stall, she fed him sugar cubes and looked into his bright eyes. He was cozying up to her and begging for attention. As she touched him, she remembered the night before when Erik and she had lain together after their coupling and talked.

"How is your charge faring, my dear?" he'd asked as his long fingers glided along her side.

Her 'charge' the stallion, had become like a child to her. Between work in the opera house and taking care of their home, she only had time to ride one horse, and it was inevitably the fiery Arabian.

The day after her wedding, Jade had been sitting on the couch and reading when a silver papered box had appeared in her lap. Seeing Erik's mysterious smile, she'd unwrapped the gift and found papers stating that she was the new owner of the stallion. Hopping up, she'd thrown her arms around his neck, and he'd swung her around until tears flew from her eyes.

Leaving the stable, Jade made her way through the back passages to a distant storage room where she washed and changed clothes. After finishing her toilet, she activated the mechanism that opened a panel to the hidden passage beyond. With lantern in hand, she was soon at the spot where Erik had said he would meet her.

The cool passage vibrated slightly from sounds on the other side of the wall. At one point, she thought she could make out distinct voices. Staring at the stone ceiling, she tried to estimate how many months it might have taken to build these corridors. There was a faint sound, and she turned to see Erik approaching.

Encircling her small wrist with his fingers, he clasped her hand, and led her to a network of joining corridors. With the lantern held high, he swung around and faced her. The flood of shadows fell from his face, and she stared into glittering eyes.

"From here there are several important routes," he said in an instructive manner. "The one to the left will take you to the stage and the auditorium. The central corridor leads to the grand foyer and to the outside. The right one travels to the staff quarters."

The faint sounds that Jade had heard while waiting for him had become a stream of voices pouring from the darkness. Turning her head in different directions, she tried to separate one echo from the next. They were in a vortex of sound.

"There were traps set in these passages which would ensnare anyone who entered here," he continued casually. Then he looked at her sternly. "On the night that you first entered these passages from box five, it was fortunate that I found you before you stumbled into one of them. Later, I dismantled the mechanisms. In the next few days, I will reset them. When you come here, you must be careful to use only the passages that I have shown you."

She wanted to ask him about those traps. Who was he trying to keep out? And what would happen to those who were unfortunate enough to get in?

Staring at him, she realized again how dangerous her husband was.

"The voices," Jade said quietly as she turned her head in the direction of the stage. "Is that how you know what occurs in the opera house?"

Erik gazed at her for a long moment. Then taking her hand, he led her through the central passage in the direction of the grand foyer.

They came to a dead end. Arranging the hood of his cloak so that it covered the masked half of his face, he then pointed to a peephole and said, "It is best to use this door at night as an alternate to the iron-gate. But if you must use it during the day, this will show you if someone is in the hall."

Placing her face to the wall, she peered through the hole, and was amazed to see the entire length of a narrow, dimly lit corridor.

"How did you do this?" she asked with surprise.

"Lenses," he replied in an offhanded way.

A moment later, the wall slid open and they were in the hall. Directly in front of them was a door that led to the outside.

At the top of the narrow street that ran next to the opera house a carriage waited. It was a four seated, elegant looking black brougham. Erik helped Jade in and the carriage swayed as he joined her. He struck the ceiling with his gloved fist, and they smoothly moved on.

Leaning back against the seat, Jade marveled at the rich interior. She was seated on a comfortable, leather covered horsehair cushion as the morning light softly penetrated the lace curtains and filled the carriage. Pulling the frilly fabric aside, she gazed at the shops that were set back from the carriage-glutted street. It was Saturday morning, and a clear, sunny day—perfect for a jaunt around the city. Yesterday, when Erik had recommended an outing, she had immediately agreed.

Erik sat regally erect as he coolly looked over her shoulder at the street beyond. He was wearing a black suit and a scarlet satin waistcoat beneath his cape. It was the ninth of April and still chilly enough for light outer wear.

As they moved across the city, Erik pointed out landmarks and explained their history. Ahead of them was the Tour Saint-Jacques, the remnant of a sixteenth century church located on the Rue de Rivoli. At its top were tiny figures milling about as they took in their two sous view of the city.

The carriage crossed the Seine and headed south through the thinning traffic. As they moved across stretches of broken cobblestones, the soft squeaking springs lent a spark of cheer to the air and highlighted Jade's sense of adventure.

"Where are we going, Erik?" she asked. She had only been to this side of the city once before when she'd taken the train to Le Havre to find Gillian.

"It's a surprise, my dear," he replied as he calmly regarded her. He seemed slightly amused by her intense curiosity. In turn, she had an impish urge to pinch his cheek. Instead, she caressed it.

It seemed to her that they were heading in the direction of the Bois de Bologne, the great park that was just west of the city. Manette had said just the other day that they should rent a carriage and go for a ride to view the flowers.

"Are we going to the Bois?" she asked as she craned her neck and tried to see past the horses. Perched on the edge of her seat, she leaned hard against the padded door, and turned her head to catch Erik's eye.

His lip curled with contempt and he replied, "No, we will not be visiting that cesspool." A haunted, angry look briefly crossed his face, and then disappeared as he gazed at her thoughtfully.

Jade stared at him with a slight frown.

Caressing her hand, he brought it to his lips. "I would not taint our first day in the sun by taking you to such a place." He patted her hand, and continued in a fatherly voice. "Perhaps at another time, after we've had more outings."

Putting his arm around her waist, he pulled her close.

The carriage arrived at the fortifications at the outer edge of the city. At first, the horses balked in front of the gate, but after some prodding, they passed through and headed southwest. Once outside of the city, the air grew fresher and cleaner, and Jade inhaled deeply. It was an elixir after the heavy, soot-laden Parisian element. Wide, green fields unrolled before them, and she wished that they were riding in a landau where the top could be lowered for an uninhibited view. It had been too long since her last escape from that crowded, congested city.

Jade turned to Erik, and her gaze fell on his mask. Then she felt a pang of guilt. _How thoughtless of me to not be happy with what I have! What would he give to be able to walk the dirty streets of Paris free of his hood and mask?_

As she looked at him tenderly, he affectionately took her hand, and slid his fingers along hers, delicately stroking them down to her palm. A warm tingling spread up her forearm. Lowering his head, his lips lightly traced her hairline and then softly pressed her mouth.

After their slow, tender kiss, she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

Blissfully content, she suddenly remembered her earlier, unanswered question from the hidden passages. Squeezing his hand, she gently asked, "Erik, how do you know what occurs in the opera house?"

He stiffened. After a moment, she rose and sat across from him so that she could better see his face.

After coolly studying her, he finally spoke. "Jade, the voices in the passages is only one of the ways that I know what occurs in the opera house."

Nodding, she replied, "Please go on."

"The peephole in the door that leads to that narrow hall is not unique."

She had suspected as much. Before he'd shown her that device, she'd often wondered how Erik had managed to find her whenever he wished. It made perfect sense that he had ways to see beyond the walls that he so easily penetrated.

Then a thought crossed her mind, which made her squirm in spite of the fact that he'd seen her naked off and on for weeks.

"Erik, is there a peephole to my old room?"

Tilting his head slightly, he waited for a moment, and then said evenly, "My dear Jade, there is no such device there." Her shoulders dropped in relief, and he continued. "It wasn't necessary. I could see into your room through the mirror."

Her shoulders shot up, and she stared at him hard.

Lifting his chin slightly, he stared back with unapologetic eyes as he casually crossed his legs.

Jade's cheeks burned. "When I was bathing, did you…" her voice trailed off and she looked down. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing a lustful look in his eye. It would have felt obscene.

"No. I respected your privacy and waited until you were clothed."

_Really? _Intent on catching him in a lie, her eyes shot up to his but she saw only an arrogant calm. Turning away, she watched the passing fields as she struggled with the knowledge that he had violated her privacy. After a few minutes her practical side won out. _Don't be a goose. What's done is done. You always knew that something like this was possible._

Then another thought came on the heels of the last. If Erik had watched her from the mirror, he must have watched other women as well.

She'd guessed that he wasn't a virgin the first time he'd bedded her since he'd quickly known how to please her. But now she was wondering exactly how her husband had come by that knowledge.

Staring at the floor, she decided that this was where the questioning had to end.

"Jade." His voice was musical as he nearly sang out her name. As tempting as it was to look up at him, she stubbornly avoided his gaze.

His hand touched her chin and gently lifted it up as he forced her to look at him. The color of his eyes had changed to that beautiful, deep green that appeared whenever he was feeling intense emotions. Leaning across the carriage, he lifted her onto his lap, and held her to his chest. A moment later, the carriage hit a bumpy stretch and they rocked together. When it smoothed out, she felt his growing hardness beneath her thigh.

"My dear wife, did you ever wonder how I came to you as an experienced lover on the first night we made love?" he asked with a seductively low voice. His member was growing stiffer by the second and was beginning to bruise her.

"You are the only woman I have been with," he whispered as his hands roamed across her.

Abruptly, she pulled back. "How did you know..." she stammered.

"Mirrors", he said with a deadpan face and a mischievous glint in his eye. Then his mouth locked onto hers.

Minutes later, her lips were swollen and hairpins were scattered across the carriage. Then he struck the ceiling to signal the carriage to stop, as Jade pulled down her bodice and smoothed out its wrinkles.

Hoisting up her skirts, she stepped out of the carriage. When she looked up and saw the vista, she gasped. Ahead were rolling hills covered with grapevines that bore an extraordinary resemblance to the land around her family home.

They picnicked under the canopy of a giant oak tree next to a stream below the road. Erik lay stretched out on the blanket, his usual hawkish alertness gone, replaced by a delightful, boyish ease. Jade ran her hands along his brightly colored waistcoat which gave him the look of a giant, courting robin in spring plumage. They fed each other oranges, and drank champagne as he read her foreign poetry. Then he leaned on his elbow and stroked her face with a blade of grass while he translated the verses.

Songbirds flew around them, some resting in the tree above. Jade listened to their bright voices as she lay against his large, warm body with her arms around his neck.

On the trip back to the city, she leaned against the cushions as they held hands, his beautifully sculpted fingers interlaced with her own. It had been a perfect day. What she now wanted was a perfect night. Yesterday he'd shown her a diagram from a book that illustrated sexual positions. His cocked eyebrow had pleaded for adventure. Tonight she would eagerly oblige.

Her hand rested on her belly. In the last few days, Jade had become certain that she was pregnant. She'd stopped riding the horses, and when the time was right, she would tell Jean and make other arrangements in regards to her apprenticeship. If she were lucky, she wouldn't show for months and could continue to work.

The only thing that remained was to tell Erik.

_Tonight, after we finish in bed._

At sundown, the carriage entered the city, and traveled up the boulevards that were soon ablaze with gaslights. The pavements around the theaters and cafes were crowded with men and women. At the edge of the Jardin des Tuileries, their vehicle stopped and waited for its turn to cross the Rue de Rivoli. On the other side of the street was a stylish restaurant with half a dozen ladies and gentlemen standing outside chatting with each other, as if they were trying to decide where to go for supper.

Jade had taken the seat opposite Erik so that she could better see the nightlife. Examining the couples that stood near the restaurant, she suddenly noticed a familiar face. There, on the sidewalk in front of them, was Raoul de Chagny with an animated expression, as he spoke with a gentleman who was smoking a cigar. The gaslights' glare reflected from the sign above him lit up his golden hair. Next to him was a slender woman dressed in a rose colored gown with chestnut curls piled on top of her head. The woman turned to Raoul, and Jade saw the delicate and tender profile of Christine de Chagny.

Startled, Jade turned to Erik who was staring out the window in the direction of that lively party.

Erik's face was frozen. With wide eyes, and lips parted, he stared at Christine with the look of a starved lover, oblivious to everything else. His body coiled and leaned in her direction, as if he were preparing to leap out of the carriage and seize her.

After what seemed an eternity, Jade's gaze fell to his scarlet chest. In the shadows, she could have sworn she saw a rippling of that fine fabric. Fascinated, she stared at it, and imagined that she was seeing his heart working its way from his chest to the surface. When it finally burst out, it would tumble into his hands and continue to throb, as it filled the carriage with its tortured sound.

Closing her eyes, she could see Christine walking towards them with a pale and curious face, drawn to the low bass notes of that organ.

The carriage moved forward, and snapped her out of her vision. Jade quickly turned to the opposite window and stared with blurred eyes at the passing gas-lamps. In the distance, through the trees, she could see the Arc de Triomphe. Fixing her eyes on that great monument, she forced her trembling hands to be still as the carriage rolled across the street.

A few moments later, she furtively gazed at Erik from beneath her lashes. He was staring straight ahead through the wall.

A weighted silence settled between them as they rode to the opera house.

They entered the building the same way that they'd left it earlier that day. Erik opened the hidden door, and they slipped into the unlit passage. The glow of the lantern scurried across the rough walls as Erik strode in the direction of the lake with Jade following.

Without a word they reached the lake. Almost absently, Erik helped her into the boat. As they glided across the water, Jade sat facing away from him, and watched the bobbing lantern light move ahead like the pale hand of a ghost guiding them home. When they stepped into the house, she broke away, and replaced the burnt out candles.

Then she went to her room and shut the door.

Shedding her clothes, she briefly looked at her body as she recalled Christine's profile. _He's never looked at me like that, _she pondered. _It seemed as if he were about to die from longing._

Fighting a growing sense of emptiness, she prayed, _Dear God, I hope I never cause him that much pain._

Still, pain was proof of love. It was clear that Erik's love for Christine was strong, stronger than his feelings for her.

Jade entered the bath and turned on the faucets. The pipes rumbled loudly, and water shot out in a spray of hot tension. After a restless soak, she washed herself with a caressing motion and tried to calm down. _He is my husband, and I must accept his needs. He loves me. He can't help it if he loves her more. _Wringing out the washcloth, she laid it across her forehead and slumped in the bath as a hard knot lodged in her tight throat.

Later, she opened the wardrobe and examined the array of nightgowns that Erik had given her—rose-colored satin, jade green silk, a lace trimmed confection from the night when he had taken her from behind. The elegant garments were a remnant of their couplings and the beauty in between. Tenderly, she pushed them aside with the tips of her fingers, and pulled out a simple, white cotton chemise. Lifting it to her nose, she inhaled its clean smell.

Pulling it over her dark hair, she slipped her slender arms into the sleeves and crawled into bed. Then suddenly, she nervously jumped up, and ran to the candles, which she quickly extinguished. Burying herself in the bed, she cried softly for a few minutes. After she finished, she lay on her back and stared up towards the ceiling.

_He'll come for me tonight._ Now was the time to plan for it, to produce a feasible story—something that wouldn't sound like the lie that it was.

_It's just for tonight, _she thought as the tears returned. She couldn't bear the thought of Erik touching her as he thought of Christine. Tomorrow she would be stronger and would face her problem. But tonight, she needed to be alone.

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Erik's heart pounded as he devoured Christine with his eyes.

_Porcelain skin, warm eyes brimming with feeling. She is still exquisite._

In that gown she looked as if she had never been pregnant. She could have just stepped out of the past, strolling down the tree-lined boulevard, temporarily truant from her duties at the Opera Populaire.

_When she is at home with her husband, does she sing for him?_

Her moist lips curved into a full, joyous smile.

_She is happy. She's forgotten me._

The carriage moved on, and his eyes followed her until she fell out of sight.

Lost, Erik stared ahead, and forgot where he was until the carriage stopped at the opera house.

As he led them to the lake, he meditated on Christine. _It has been over two years, and she has not changed. _

The profound silence of the underground cavern soothed him a little and brought him back to his senses. As he paddled the boat across the water, his eyes rested on Jade's erect back. She had said nothing since their carriage had turned towards the Tuileries. However, it was common for them to go for long periods without saying a word. She was comfortable with their silences.

The boat touched shore, and he helped her out. Once inside, Erik sat at his worktable and emptily gazed at an architectural plan he'd been working on earlier that morning. The sound of Jade replacing candles thinly penetrated his hearing. Rising, he sat down in front of the organ and stared at the keys. Then he went to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of wine, which he opened. Pouring himself a glass, he walked out to the lake and sat in the darkness.

Christine's face was still on his mind._ How beautiful she is. _She had been so close. If he had opened the carriage door, he could have been at her side in a moment. But she was with her husband and friends, ensconced in her new life. _Forever beyond my reach._

An enormous sadness was upon him—an intense loneliness that he floundered in. He drained his glass and stared into the blackness, wishing for an escape.

Then it came to him.

Entering the house, he walked to the kitchen. _Where is she?_ Jade would have normally been there preparing their dinner. And in turn, he would have been standing behind her, occasionally putting a spice into the pot or caressing her back as she kneaded the bread dough and smiled up at him with her serene eyes.

Spinning on his heel, he headed to their bedroom. The room was brightly lit with candles that she had replaced but there was no other sign of her. The bed was still made.

At her bedroom door, he paused and listened. It was silent within. Touching the handle, he pushed open the door and stepped into the unlit room.

It was dark inside but the faint light from the hall gave him what he needed. He could see her small form lying in bed. Eagerly, he sat beside her.

"Jade?" he asked softly. She stirred and turned to him. Her eyes were open and shining in the dim light.

His first impulse was to pick her up and carry her to their bedroom. Reaching for her, she stopped him with her voice.

"Erik, if you don't mind terribly, I'm not feeling very well. I think it would be best if I stayed here for the night."

"What is the matter, my dear?"

"It's my stomach. It's uneasy. I think I had too much food and champagne, and then the long carriage ride afterwards. I'm sorry to be a bother but I think I'll be fine by morning if I can get some rest."

Gently stroking her hair, he asked, "How long have you been ill?"

"Since we crossed the river, I think. Yes, it was about then that I started to feel it."

"I can give you some tea," he said solicitously.

"Thank you, but I think all I need is to sleep. It's soothing here in the darkness."

"Yes. The darkness can indeed be soothing. Goodnight, my dear." Bending over, he kissed her forehead and breathed in her sweet scent. Then he rose, and left her.

Returning to his room, Erik locked the door, removed his mask, and stripped down to his bare skin. Putting on a silk robe, he climbed into bed. However, he couldn't sleep. Lying there, Christine's face returned--a shining beacon of light. Then Jade's followed, and he gazed at them side by side. Inevitably, he compared them—the two women that he loved. Christine had a warm and open face with an enchanting smile. Jade's was dreamy, full of curiosity and sometimes reserved and self-contained.

Then her look of ecstasy was before him. Her lips were parted and her eyelashes fluttering in time to her frantic moans. He had never seen those expressions on Christine's face. He could only imagine what they might be like. But he knew Jade's intimately.

He was fully erect. Leaving his bed, he quickly put on the mask, and strode to her room where he stood outside in the hall. Staring at the door's handle, his hand shook as he reached for it.

_I need her. _Her love would restore him to the happiness he had felt before seeing Christine. He would sink into her flesh, join with her, and feel whole again.

_Blast her stomach problems! _

Panting, he wrestled with his immense need. Then he turned away, and stalked back to his room where he shut the door and locked it again. With clenched teeth, he threw off the silk robe and fell into bed. Grimly, he took his shaft in his hand and set about to relieve his misery.

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**A/N: just a tiny bit of M material in this chapter.**

**Tour means tower.**

**A sou was one twentieth of a franc.**

**Dear readers, I now have a LiveJournal, which you can get to by clicking the homepage link on my bio page. If you have questions about a chapter or would simply like to chat with me about this story, feel free to leave a comment and I'll get back to you.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. **


	52. Chapter 52 Accident

**Chapter 52 Accident**

The next morning, when Jade awoke, Erik was gone.

Indifferently, she eyed the bowl of fresh fruit on the kitchen table. In spite of missing dinner the night before, she had no appetite.

_It doesn't matter if I'm not hungry_. Rifling through the pantry, she pulled out oatmeal, and started her breakfast. For the remainder of her pregnancy she was determined to eat several meals a day even if she had to force them down.

As she stirred the porridge, she heard a whisper of sound, and saw Erik leaning against the doorframe. In a second, he was at her side, and taking the wooden spoon from her hand.

"Sit down, my dear," he gently commanded. Settling in the chair, she wrapped her feet around the rung as she watched his tall figure bend over the boiling pot.

When she finished her meal, she moved to the couch. Erik was playing the organ—a piece that he'd been composing for the last week. Watching his long back sway, she wondered what it would be like to dance with him

The massive instrument breathed out a melody as he stroked its keys. As she listened, the soothing music wiped away the remnants of last night's pain. It was as if Christine no longer existed.

That morning, Jade rose from her bed with an empty ache, knowing that she had an impossible rival for Erik's affections. Plus, there was the regret that they had spent their first night apart since their marriage.

As she put up her hair, she stared into the mirror, and pondered over her uneasiness. _What has happened to me? _She wasn't the same person who had come to Paris months before. The tough, independent woman who had survived all these years on her own had disappeared.

_I've been a lovesick child since the first night Erik kissed me._

Her old self would have done better in this harrowing situation. Or at the very least, she wouldn't have dissolved into tears at the first sign of a serious problem.

Watching as Erik's hands floated along the keyboard, she rested her hand on her belly and thought of their baby. It was up to her to build a home for her new family, and there was no room for self pity, disappointment, and childish thoughts._ I have to be stronger._

Erik's vibrant figure rocked back and forth with stretched out, sweeping arms. A delicate touch, a bold flourish, he was nearly finished with his composition—another piece of beauty that would stay in the depths of their home to be played only for an audience of one.

The music stopped, and Erik rose, and strode to the couch. His anguish and distraction of last night had disappeared, replaced with confidence as his gray-green eyes penetrated hers.

"You are fully recovered, my dear wife?" he asked soothingly.

"Yes, thank you. I plan to go to mass in a few hours."

His astute eyes scrutinized her as Jade steadily returned his gaze.

Taking her hands, Erik pulled her from the couch. Then leading her to the bedroom, he held her gaze as he drew her to the bed. Stretching out on it, he patted the spot in front of him, and stared up at her with glittering eyes.

She sat on the bed, and glanced at his soft, moist lips. Then straightening, she said firmly,"There's something I need to tell you."

"Very well," he replied, and sat up. His thumb stroked her palm in sensuous circles.

Jade closed her eyes, and pressed her spine into the solid headboard to bolster her will. At that moment she was sorely tempted to toss her good sense aside, and give in to his touch.

_Why is it so difficult to tell him? It shouldn't be a surprise. People marry and then babies arrive._

_Yes, but it's not Christine's baby, _her nagging voice answered.

"Erik, I am with child."

Jade's eyes opened and fixed on his.

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Erik stared back, pinned to the spot by her burning eyes. He could feel her fear and doubt.

_She is afraid of what lies beneath the mask. _Tightening his grip on her hand, he waited.

After a long moment, Jade's eyes softened as she leaned towards him. Touching his face, she stroked his cheek in a slow caress.

"No matter what happens, please know that I love you," she said a little sadly. Turning away, she proceeded to leave the bed.

"No," he said, as he forcefully pulled her to him.

Pushing her into the bed, Erik kissed her roughly. He could feel her slipping away, wrapped in fear, perhaps eaten up by a dread of the future—the mother of a monster.

_I will not lose her, _he thought as he desperately tugged at her clothes. He had to have her. Once they were again joined she would open her soul to him, and stay.

Swiftly, he pulled the bodice over her head and then worked the skirt down her hips. _Damn these female garments._ When he got to her chemise, he breathed a sigh of relief. Ripping the shirt from his back he tore at his pants and the buttons flew across the bed. Finally, free of encumbrances, he stared down at her.

She was looking up at him with a sad look of longing.

Lifting her chemise, he smoothly slid it over her head. Then his fingers searched between her legs. Finding dryness there, he cursed under his breath.

"The baby," she murmured.

Erik firmly ran his palms over her breasts and followed their curves. They had grown a little larger in the last week. He had wondered if it was simply a part of her normal cycle or something else.

"Has there been any morning sickness?" he whispered as his wet tongue licked her ear.

"No," she sighed and pushed closer to him. "Erik, the baby…" she repeated softly.

"I will not harm our child," he replied as his hands swept her body. "We can safely join until a month or so before the birth."

Pulling her against him, he took her breast in his mouth and suckled it. It was warm like the rest of her and tender. She stiffened and he eased off a little as he recalled the voices of women in the opera house talking about sore breasts at the beginning of their pregnancies.

Closing his eyes, he relished that round pillow of flesh, and smiled as he thought of how well endowed she would become as the baby grew.

Women had always been alluring and beautiful to him. But a pregnant woman was especially so. The reverent way they touched their own bodies as if they were caught up with the wonder of what was inside of them. Once, when he had had the strength to put aside his envy and bitterness, he had spent an afternoon behind the mirror watching a pregnant woman move about her room. There had been a secret shyness to her, as if she had become a wild creature of the forest.

Fiercely, he laved Jade's neck and stomach. Then turning her away from him he worked his tongue across her back while she shivered from the sensation. Her back was very sensitive to this stimulation, and it was perfect for what he intended. He needed her _now_, and he was using all the tricks that he knew to arouse her. From behind he could avoid her luminous eyes. It was too easy to fall under their spell, which would slow him down.

Her breathing sped up as he rubbed her cleft while continuing to lick her back. She was beginning to open up to him, growing moister with each deliberate stroke as she moaned softly.

_Yes, my darling. You will want me._

"Stop," she gasped.

Quickly turning her over, he grunted with pleasure as he entered her, and smiled when her eyes widened and her hips smoothly rose to meet him.

He slid back and forth a half a dozen times enjoying the way her body accepted him. Then he eased her into a side position. Now that he was inside, he could stop for a moment, and look at her. The lovely rose flush of her excitement was spreading across her skin. It was one of the things that he loved about her. She was utterly open to him, incapable of hiding her feelings or her physical desire for him. When he had first seen that flush on their wedding night, he had felt a pang of joy. He would always know when he excited her.

"Jade, are you comfortable?"

She pressed her face to his chest and kissed him. "Yes."

Thrusting slowly, he probed her inner chamber. She was now very wet, and he closed his eyes to feel her better as he pushed into her. It was a marvel how a woman was built to hold a man—that smooth, moist tightness. He could never imitate these sensations with his hand. When he was inside her, he was touching perfection.

Changing his speed, he watched Jade's green eyes cloud over as she moaned louder. Cradling her in his arms, he took her lips and speared her tongue. She eagerly responded. Their heat above matched the fire below, as Erik reveled in her passion.

_You are mine. You will always be mine._

She _was_ truly his now, with a part of him growing inside of her. It would shape her, change her.

_It will not be a monster, _he thought as he thrust deeper into her._ Her goodness will break the curse. The child will be whole._

He still believed in God. After all these years of pain and misery, he could not deny that he was a victim of that mighty hand. But he would not bow to that cruel deity even now when he finally had happiness. Providence owed him, and it would pay.

Jade stiffened in his arms, and he knew she was at the edge. Pulling his tongue from her mouth, he watched with delight as she began to convulse in front of him. He felt powerful, godlike, as he delivered her orgasm. She was small and grasping at him with weak and wild hands while her inner walls throbbed against his organ. Her cries were exquisite. Shutting his eyes, he tipped his head back and thrust harder as his swollen member milked her.

Her muscles contracted around him and pulled him towards ecstasy, but for once, he resisted. When she finished, he was still firm.

Erik continued to push into her. How long could he go on? Today, it felt like forever. As long as she would allow it, he would continue.

The pressure mounted and colors began to change. The golden bed cover beneath her rose tinted skin shimmered and spread its light across her body. She lit up like a flower in the sun and the sun was a burning sphere of pleasure. Panting, he groaned with the intensity of each thrust as her insides became liquid heat that slid up and down his shaft. Something emerged as he sank deeper into her—words flowed out and he lost control.

Then suddenly, Jade was no longer soft and receptive beneath his onslaught. She stiffened and moved spastically, her body flailing about in hard, uneven motions as she climaxed again. And this time, she took him with her.

He spilled into her and pumped her until he could move no more. Then with a cry, he stopped and fell trembling to her side.

Slowly, Erik opened his eyes to see her face inches from his own. A soft touch was on his skin, and he realized that she was stroking his cheek.

"You're crying," she murmured.

Reaching up, he felt wetness streaming from his eyes. _How strange._

Then a wave of sorrow rolled over him, and tears rushed out.

If he hadn't been so limp from spent pleasure, he would have fought that outrageous, unexpected outburst and won. Instead, he watched as his body betrayed him.

Rolling away, he moved to leave but her arms were suddenly around him, and pulling him back. She was holding him, and relentlessly drawing him to her. He felt her lips kissing his face, and drinking in his tears.

"No," he whispered, but she ignored him and continued.

Erik lay there, as a life time of tears was wrung from his soul.

She kissed him for what seemed like hours. Warm, lingering kisses. All the kisses he'd been denied as a child, as a passionate adolescent, as a lonely man. At first he soaked them up passively, as the love that was his due. Then, when her tongue entered his mouth, he returned them—long, languorous exchanges, as he lay in a strange and enchanted state. They were kisses of healing, and he bowed to her wisdom.

Eventually their lips separated, and they lay in each others arms. For once Erik had lost track of time. He knew she would soon leave him to attend mass. She was a good catholic, and never missed the Sunday service if it could be avoided. Sighing, he wished it were another day.

His hand stroked her naked back and she nestled closer to him. "You will be leaving for mass?" He asked a little wistfully.

Raising up and leaning on her elbow, Jade gazed down at him with a serious smile, and shook her head as she replied.

"Just this once, God will understand."

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Jade left the back stage, and briskly walked down the hall. For some reason, over the last day or so, her bladder had developed insistent urges that were sending her scurrying to the cabinet de toilette. She was only a month and a half pregnant, and it was too early for the baby to cause such turmoil.

Over the last few days, Erik had been reading to her from medical texts as he calmly lectured her on what foods she was to eat and how much she was to consume each day. It was all very scientific and dear, the way Erik had taken on her pregnancy as a valued project.

But her bladder control was another matter, and she was feeling a bit annoyed with her body's new needs.

By the time she returned to the stage, the work crew was gone for lunch, and only Jean remained. He was standing at the center of the backstage with his hands on his hips and frowning. There was a problem with the set, and he had been arguing with the set movers about it. Yesterday it had become heated between them, and for a minute it had seemed as if blows would follow.

He glanced at her and then his gaze fell back to the work. "Go to lunch, Jade," he said absently. Turning, she took a step away.

There was a strange tinkling sound above her. She lifted her head to look up, and was suddenly thrust across the stage by a sickening blow to her spine. Hitting the floor, she passed out.

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When she opened her eyes, she was lying on a divan with Jean seated by her side. The room was gray in spite of the gaslights' yellow hue. Blinking, she stared blankly at the dark face above her.

"Thank God," he said as he squeezed her hand. "You're awake."

With a weak hand, Jade touched her forehead and found a damp cloth lying across her head. Beneath it, on the right side, was a sharp ache.

"You hit your head," she heard Jean say with a calm voice.

"What happened?" she asked.

"One of the battens fell from the flies and struck you."

"I see," she replied weakly. Both her head and her back hurt, but it didn't explain the wetness between her legs.

"I need to use the facilities," she said with a low, weary tone. _I must have wet myself while I was lying here._

Nodding, Jean rose. "I've sent for Manette. She should be here anytime."

Jean held her shoulders, and helped her up as he watched her with sharp eyes. "I can carry you there if you'd like," he offered.

Shaking her head, she said, "No. I think it would be best to see if I can walk." She leaned on him as they made their way down the hall. Once inside the cabinet de toilette, she hoisted up her skirts to examine the mess she'd made.

Staring down at her drawers, she was horrified to see that they were streaked with blood.

_No, _she thought as she quickly sat down.

Resting her aching head in her hands, she tried to think. _What did Erik say the other night? Oh yes. Some women still have a flow when they're pregnant. That's it!_ _It's not a problem._

Calming herself, she emptied her bladder and searched for clean rags. As she reached for the door she saw that her hand was shaking.

Jean helped her back to the room where Manette waited for them.

Over the next hour arrangements were made for Jade to rest in one of the staff rooms. Her old room was now occupied but on her request, they carried her to Pierre's.

As Manette set the lunch on the table, she stared at Jade for a moment with a worried look.

"How are you feeling, dear? Are you in pain?"

Shrugging, Jade tried to ignore her aching body. Her lower back was badly bruised but still intact, and her head hurt. But none of that mattered. It was the cramping in her womb which had begun a half hour before that was worrying her. Nothing Erik had read about pregnancy had said that cramping was a healthy sign.

Manette stood in front of her with her own belly protruding. By all estimates, she would be having her baby in a couple of months.

Fighting back her alarm, Jade bit her lip as a cramp twisted through her. She was not going to distress her friend with her problem. Manette was in a delicate condition and didn't need to share her fear.

Jean had offered to send for her husband and Jade had agreed. She had sent a note on to Jules Bernard, who would reach Erik. That was why she had asked to be brought to Pierre's room were there was a wall mirror. It was just a matter of time and he would come for her.

After Manette left the room with the tray, Jade dragged herself to the table, and wrote a letter which she slipped into her skirt pocket. Then she returned to her bed and waited.

It was around four o'clock in the afternoon when she heard a slight sound at the mirror. Turning, Jade held her breath as it opened.

Erik was at her side with his hood flung back and a stern look on his face. If she hadn't guessed his worry, she would have assumed that he was angry with her.

Gathering her into his arms, he turned and sped out of the room as the mirror slid quietly shut behind them. At the end of the corridor, he stopped.

"Are you in pain?" he asked with a strained voice.

"I have cramps, and my flow has begun," she replied as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Are they severe?" he asked evenly as they moved rapidly down the passage.

"They've gotten worse in the last hour." In spite of the fact that he had come for her and was taking her back to their home, she was feeling overwhelmed and afraid.

The trip across the lake was faster than ever before, and soon they were back at their home. She tried to stand as she left the boat but he scooped her up and brought her to the bedroom. Then he helped her out of her clothes, and carried her to the bath.

Jade lay back in the warm water as Erik gently bathed her. When he undressed her, she noted the bloody rag, and grimaced. She had never bled that much before. In spite of the soothing warmth of the bath and his tender ministrations, she was beginning to feel nauseous.

After her bath, Erik put her to bed, and returned later with a tea. He helped her sit up, and brought the cup to her lips since her hands were too shaky to hold it.

"This will help your stomach," he said soothingly.

With a look of determination she finished it, and then turned her eyes to him.

"Have I lost the baby?"

Erik didn't speak. Instead, he slid closer and took her in his arms.

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The day dragged on and the tears didn't come. Jade felt numb, as if the blow to her back had worked its way to her heart and killed whatever feeling remained. Even sleep evaded her, that comforting friend, which always eased her pain.

Erik stood nearby silently watching her. He had given her a tea to help with the pain but had told her that it was best to allow the blood flow to continue for at least a little while longer.

Jade didn't care. If she bled out or didn't, it was all the same.

In spite of the fact that she had no appetite, she managed to eat a little of the food Erik prepared. Her stomach didn't toss it up because of the tea he gave her, but it was tasteless. At nine o'clock, he lifted her out of her bed and carried her to his own where he joined her. After a half hour of him rubbing her back and singing to her, she finally dropped off to sleep.

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Erik stared down at Jade who was lying beside him. It had been hours since she'd fallen asleep. Since then, he had held her close in order to comfort her.

Running his hands through his hair, he considered what to do next. He was exhausted, and needed to sleep. But if he returned her to her bed, she might awaken in the middle of the night, and he didn't want her to be alone.

Finally, he lifted her up and carried her to her bedroom. _I will sleep for a few hours and then return for her._

When he lowered her to the bed, she whimpered in her sleep, and clutched at his robe. Pausing, he reconsidered, and then carried her back to his room.

Stretching out on the bed, he held her, and a deep feeling of contentment arose as sleep approached. Her soft form breathing against him was balm to his ragged nerves. He had wanted this since the night she had awoken from her deep sleep months ago.

The uncovered side of his face was pressed against the bed with the masked side up, which safeguarded against it being dislodged during sleep. Shutting his eyes, he drifted off.

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For the next three days, Erik meticulously cared for Jade, as she slept and dozed. Knowing that it was her way of healing, he allowed it. However, whenever she was fully awake, he was either feeding her or forcing her to move about. After Christine had left, he had learned that exercise possessed a powerful healing property. So for the next few days, they either walked in their home, or moved through the back passages of the opera house. At night he took her above to the lawns that abutted the bridle path where they wandered under the stars.

Throughout their many walks, Jade said nothing as she doggedly followed him.

At night, he kept her in bed with him reasoning that it was because she needed him. But actually, he needed their contact as well. He was fighting his own unexpected melancholy, and it comforted him to have her with him through the night. Each evening he told himself that tomorrow would be the last time.

On the fourth night, Erik stood before the mirror and examined his face. Wearing the mask night and day had caused an irritation that was becoming a problem. As he stared at the chafed skin he shrugged and applied the salve.

Once in bed, he settled in, and pulled her small rump against his groin as he gently rested his hand on her belly. Sighing, he fell asleep with a peaceful smile.

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Several hours later, Jade opened her eyes to the painted ceiling. The mural was brighter than the last time she'd seen it. Turning her head, she stretched her neck until she worked out the stiffness.

The music in her mind had changed from a funereal wail to a kinder melody.

She rubbed her belly as she thought of the child that she would never know. _She's in heaven now,_ she thought wistfully. That small, unformed life had flown away like a swallow, and left her mother behind.

The sound of a brief snort caused her to glance at her bed partner. Erik was lying on his side, and facing away from her, his shoulders moving with his slow, deep breathing. Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around his large form. He had been with her night and day as he watched over her like a guardian angel.

_Erik, an angel. Perhaps an archangel with a flaming sword, _she thought with a smile.

Raising herself up, she stared down at the unmasked side of his face. His dark hair had fallen onto his pale forehead. Running her fingers beneath the strands, she lifted them off of his brow. Lightly, her fingers continued down the side of his face as she anticipated the feel of warm leather. Instead, she found a rough and lumpy surface.

Jade froze, and then swiftly pulled her hand away as if she had touched a poisonous spider's web.

_The mask is gone._

Staring at Erik's back with dismay, she began to inch away.

_I haven't seen his face. If I leave the room and go to my bed, then when he awakes he may think I was gone when it fell off._

Carefully, she moved backwards across the large bed until she was at the edge. Pushing her leg off, she reached for the floor as she prepared to silently steal out of the room.

At that moment, Erik rolled over, and opened his eyes.

**

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**A/N: M material**


	53. Chapter 53 Ghost

**Chapter 53 Ghost**

Erik awoke and tenderly focused on Jade. Then he saw her anguished stare fixed on the right side of his face.

His hand shot up to cover himself. With a lightening quick move, he rolled over and found the mask, which was lying next to his pillow. Frantically, he slid it on, and then looked up to see that she was gone.

With a pounding heart, he heaved himself out of bed and ran down the hall to her closed door. Flinging it open, he rushed inside. The bathroom door was ajar and from inside came the labored sounds of retching.

Dread engulfed him as he helplessly stood there. Seeing his reflection in the vanity mirror, he whirled around and savagely hit it. There was a dull thud of knuckles striking the cheval glass, and then pain ran up his arm, and dragged him back to reason.

Slumping onto the bench, he buried his head in his hands. _How?_

Had she removed it while he slept? He doubted it. She was too private for that. No, it was a simple accident.

_Simple… nothing is simple in my life._

Cursing, he rose and faced the bathroom.

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Jade squatted with her nightgown hoisted up to her thighs as she cleaned up the foamy, yellow mess splattered across the floor. When she finished, she stared at the stains on the blue satin. Listlessly pulling the garment over her head, she stepped to the sink and tried to rub out the green blotches. Then laying it across a chair, she turned to the bathtub.

What she wouldn't give for a long soak and time to think!

_He'll be upset if I don't go to him._

But she was stinking of vomit and sweat, and Erik would have to wait.

The sharp odor of the lavender soap cleared her head a little as she scrubbed hard, and tried to wash away the shock.

Standing on the soft rug next to the tub, Jade dried her glistening belly, and thought of the baby who had rested there only days before. Then suddenly, Erik's unmasked face returned and a wave of nausea hit her again. Abruptly, she hunched on the floor and shoved her fists into her stomach to quell the sickness.

When it receded, she stretched out her legs, and gazed at the golden sheen of candlelight reflected off the white tiled walls. It was soothing there in that pristine room. At that moment, she almost believed that the woes of her life could be held at bay.

_It's Erik behind the mask. Nothing's changed. _

Over the last month, she'd begun to believe that her husband, who was a passionate lover of beauty, was simply hiding ugliness or imperfection behind his mask. Before that, she'd tried to prepare herself for the unmasking by recalling facial disfigurements she'd seen over the years.

But his deformity was far worse than her imaginings! And the final irony was that amid the devastation of what should have been a face, was his intelligent, beautiful eye looking out from the nightmare.

Rising, Jade paced the room, as she wrestled with her growing shame. _I had to leave him.__It was my stomach that forced me to go._ She argued with her inner voice which told her that she was a traitor and a coward.

Restlessly, she continued her pacing until she had enough courage to push open the bathroom door.

The bedroom was empty. Relieved, she went to the wardrobe, and pulled out a chemise, robe and slippers. Turning to the vanity stand, she nearly dropped the clothes when she saw the cracks in the mirror. In her mind's eye, she could see Erik's tall form emerging from the shadows as he rose up in fury over her betrayal.

Jade slowly dressed and contemplated her next move. _The damage has been done. The longer I wait, the more difficult it will be for both of us. _Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin and left the room.

The outside door was open, filling the room with cool, damp air. Erik stood in the doorway, looking out to the cavern beyond. The white linen shirt that draped his strong shoulders was crisscrossed with chaotic shadows that bled into his dark trousers.

He seemed lost in thought, and unaware of her.

Standing behind him, Jade stared at his slender hips for a few moments before tentatively touching his back. Muscles tightened beneath her fingers and he turned.

The mask was in place, frowning down at her—distant, untouchable. His icy gaze negated the warm caresses he'd showered on her the last three days. Guilt filled her, and she fought the urge to return to her room.

His mask was now useless. Her perfect memory could see the damage below—tainted flesh that spoke more of the grave than humanity. _Opera Ghost, _flashed through her mind as she nervously licked her lips.

_Don't be a fool. This is Erik, the man you love_.

Jade raised her eyes to his, and peered past his defenses. What she saw was disappointment, fear, and an inkling of hope. Those feelings waited for release, and the healing love of another.

_I shouldn't have this power over him, _she thought sadly. But that was what happened when two people gave each other their hearts. She had vowed to love him no matter what, and he was waiting for her to honor it.

Their honeymoon was over.

Standing on her toes, Jade wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. Erik stiffened for a moment. Then his mouth opened and he pulled her to him as he returned her kiss. There was no tongue, just a gliding of his lips across her face. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the couch where he kissed her neck as she lightly stroked the back of his head.

Leaning back into the crook of his arm, she felt his wet softness slowly caress her while the image of his devastated face exploded beneath her closed lids. Her stomach was calm now, and she was grateful for that.

After awhile, he stopped and rested his bare face against her neck. Gently, she lifted his chin so that she could gaze into his eyes.

"I am very sorry, Erik," she said softly.

He traced her lips with his fingers and gave her a long, penetrating look. "There is nothing to forgive, my dear," he replied.

The iciness had vanished, but doubt and pain remained.

Laying her head against his chest, Jade solemnly stared into the candlelight as she pondered their future.

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The following evening, Manette untied her white starched apron, and slowly walked to the stairs, where she called to Jean to come down for dinner. Sitting at the kitchen table, she pressed her hand to her aching back, and let out a deep sigh. She pulled a letter from her pocket that had been waiting for her when she'd come home from work. At last she had time to give it her full attention. It was her second letter from Jade since the accident, and she hoped that it would say more than the last.

**My dearest Manette and Jean, **

**I pray that this finds you well.**

**Once again, please accept my heartfelt thanks for your assistance on Wednesday after the occurrence of my unfortunate accident. Your kind attentions greatly eased my discomfort.**

**With each passing day, I am getting stronger. I expect that we will soon be together again. **

**When I am fully recovered, I would like the two of you to be my guests for dinner at Le Grand Cafe.**

**I look forward to seeing you soon.**

**Jade Marsolais**

Manette absently massaged her back as she analyzed the letter. Something was wrong. Jade would have visited them by now if she wasn't seriously injured.

She was reading the letter a second time when Jean entered the kitchen.

"What is that?" he asked as he looked over her shoulder.

Handing it to him, she watched him carefully while he read it. When he finished, he was scowling.

"It is I who should be giving something to her," he said gruffly.

Twisting her skirt in her hands, Manette waited for what would follow. Jean was staring at the yellow table cloth. Suddenly, he clenched his fist, and brought it down hard on the surface causing the glassware to tinkle.

"Damn that pig," he snarled. His angry eyes pierced Manette's. "I'm not wrong. I know what I saw!"

He jumped up and strode to the kitchen sink which he leaned on for a moment. Then with a rough shake of his head, he returned and sat down.

"It was Ferat in the flies when the batten fell," he stated. "The blow that Jade took was meant for me."

There was nothing new about this declaration. He had been saying it since the accident. After the batten fell, Jean had looked up and seen a figure moving easily amid the ropes and planks as if the man was well acquainted with them. The shadows hid his face but Jean recognized that tall, lanky figure. It was Adolphe Ferat. On the day before, he'd had a heated argument with him and two of the other set movers, at which time Ferat had threatened him with his fists.

After an anguished debate, Manette had finally convinced him not to confront Ferat but rather, to report the incident to DuChant. So far, nothing had come of it since the man had not been officially charged. Ferat had a witness who claimed that they'd been together at the time of the accident. Over the last several days, Jean had been nosing around the opera house, and trying to find evidence that would prove that Ferat was guilty.

While staring at her husband's flushed face, Manette suddenly remembered the blood stained rags that she had taken from Jade after the accident. She blanched. Had Jade been pregnant? If so, it would explained the tension that had been etched on her friend's face as she waited for M Marsolais.

With a heavy sigh, she rose and put the rest of the food on the table. No good would come of telling Jean her hunch. It would only fuel his anger, which might lead to something rash. Besides, it was possible that her guess was wrong.

Manette sincerely hoped that was the case.

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That night, the two men staggered down the poorly lit, narrow street in the tenth arrondissement as they headed towards their apartment house. Entering the dank courtyard of the building, they sloshed through puddles of standing water as they followed the dim gaslight that lit the second story landing. Gripping the iron rail of the wooden staircase, they hauled themselves up to the third floor. The small, windowless room that they stepped into was sparsely furnished with a bed, trunk, and a table with two chairs. After the candles were lit, the men sat down and began to argue.

"You owe me, Claude," the tall man groused. "You'd better not back out of this. If you do, it'll just take one word to the police and there'll be a knock on your door."

The other man snorted and gave him a twisted smile. "Don't threaten me. What you did is a lot worse than stealing someone's name and a little money." He was getting tired of Adolphe Ferat's endless haranguing on the matter.

Ferat pugnaciously continued while shoving his face closer to the other. "I saw you cringe when Dubois cornered you the other day. You'll be a piss poor witness if this goes any further. If you cave in to the police…" He stopped, and glowered at his companion.

"You're a fool," the other man replied indifferently. "You got lucky. Just a few inches off, and you could have killed Dubois. You'd better learn to control your temper."

Clenching his fist, Ferat looked down his long nose with contempt. "I knew what I was doing. It was just a trick to scare him. If that stupid, stable whore hadn't been in the way there wouldn't have been a problem."

They talked in the same vein for five minutes more, and then Claude left for his own room.

Extinguishing the candles, Ferat kicked off his heavy boots, and stretched out on the bed. As he pulled the dirt stained blankets around him, he heard a slight noise._ Rats_, he thought. In his drunken state he didn't care. The filthy beasts could eat the heel of old bread on the table and leave him be for the night.

In a few moments, he drifted off and began to snore.

Suddenly, his eyes were open and staring into the dark as he felt the stranglehold at his throat. He tried to scream, but there was something pressed hard against his mouth. Gagging, he groped the air and kicked wildly until he found a cloth covered, steely arm, which he tried to rip away. The crushing weight on his chest pinned him down, and thwarted his struggle to throw off his assailant.

After thrashing about uselessly for a half minute longer, he finally collapsed.

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Erik carefully removed the lasso from the dead man's throat. His gloved hands tenderly coiled the soft rope, which he deftly tucked into his cloak. Before slipping from the room, he paused a moment to stare at the faint outline of the corpse.

On the street below, the cool night air washed away the tension that had been plaguing him for the last two days. His long legs carried him down the street as he eagerly headed back to his home.

Jade was waiting for him there, possibly asleep by now. She had spent last night alone in her bed. Perhaps it would be best for her to do the same tonight. Hot blood was pulsing through him, and he wasn't sure he would be able to restrain himself if she lay next to him. She was still healing from the loss of their baby and coupling was out of the question. If he needed to be with her, he would have to sit by her bedside as he had done the night before.

But it might not be necessary. He felt very satisfied with tonight's work. It was likely that he would sleep well.


	54. Chapter 54 Reunion

**Chapter 54 Reunion**

Jade stood amid the ropes that dangled from the blackness above, and watched Erik crawl along the cavern wall. As he lit the hanging lanterns, the expanding glow lit up the dank darkness so that she could see a couple dozen feet overhead.

She tugged on the rope's thick hemp. The timber it was attached to held firm.

Erik strode to her side, and nodded for her to begin. Clasping the rope with her breech clad legs, she clambered several feet above his head.

"Higher," his voice echoed. Straining, she pulled herself up another ten feet before descending.

"Good. Now rest," he said tersely. Grabbing a rope, he snaked up it at an astonishing pace, and disappeared into the overhead darkness. The rope violently swayed, and the adjacent one jerked next to it. A moment later, Erik spiraled down.

He stepped lightly towards her with the agility of a trained acrobat. Unconsciously, she leaned towards his graceful, well muscled figure, and then caught herself. Biting her lip, she turned to the rope.

They spent the next hour climbing. When they were finished, Jade was soaked in sweat.

The slick sound of the paddle dipping into the water lazed through her nerves as they floated home. She was enjoying the blissful feel of tired muscles. For the first time, the exercise session hadn't exhausted her. Instead, there was a humming energy coursing through her body.

Earlier that week Erik had brought her to the ropes, and demonstrated how to climb. After curiously looking at that strange arrangement, she had stared at him.

"Why do you want me to do this?" she challenged.

A rope lay across his hands, its thick tendril caressing his calloused palms. Suddenly, she remembered Pierre's account of the Opera Ghost hanging a man in the middle of an opera performance. Goose bumps pricked her arms. She stared at the rope as if it were a snake.

His silky voice cut through her tension. "It will alleviate the melancholy and exercise your arms, my dear." Then he cocked his left eyebrow as if to say, "It is no more challenging than taking a stroll along the Seine".

Sighing, Jade tucked the rope between her legs, and awkwardly inched up it.

Tonight as they traveled through the black cavern, for the first time since the miscarriage her senses were clear. The melancholy had lifted, and she was actually looking forward to her evening meal. It was Saturday night, and she planned to meet with Jean and Manette for a late supper.

After her bath, she donned a cream colored bodice embroidered with pearls. Her green and beige striped skirt hugged her hips and suggestively caressed her thighs. Its fabric was tucked in places to give it a stylish flare. Erik had designed it for tonight's supper at Paris's chic and popular Le Grande Café. When he'd slid the box into her hands, his eyes had said, "You will wear this. Do not argue with me."

He'd been doing that for the last ten days—tending to her every need and leading her around like a pet lamb. The regimen of regular exercise in fresh air and mandatory meals that he'd begun before the unmasking had continued, as he hovered close, and made certain that she obeyed.

At night he would undress her, and tuck her into bed like a child, then read to her until she fell asleep. His rich voice soothed as he played the solicitous guardian.

For her part, she was content with their current relationship. It was sexless, but comfortable, exactly what she needed. Her body was healing from the trauma of the miscarriage while her mind recovered from the shock of seeing his face.

If Erik had come to her, carried her to his bed, and asked for his husbandly rights, Jade would have accepted his attentions. But she was relieved that he hadn't. Although she was slowly growing accustomed to what lay beneath the mask, she was incapable of absolutely controlling her face. If he bedded her, she feared he would see her new found pity for him.

_He would despise it._

Entering the front room, she found Erik seated at his work table. One of the little mechanical devices that he occasionally designed was before him, its miniscule parts cached on a sheet of double elephant architect's paper. Eagerly, she approached him. His inventions always fascinated her.

As she stood silently at his side, he absently reached up and caressed her for a moment while his gaze remained fixed on the shiny cogs and pins.

"What is it for?" She asked with a touch of reverence.

"Hmmm?" he replied softly as if she were more of an afterthought than a presence. Settling into his previous concentration, he forgot she was there.

While sipping herbal tea, she watched him work. He was crouched over the table, and delicately handling the tiny parts with complete absorption. His handsome, still face had a slight frown that caused a little flutter in her stomach.

_He's been very quiet lately._ They hadn't said much to each other since the unmasking. Over the course of the week, Erik had been in a deep reverie—distantly meditative as if observing a novena.

_Perhaps he grieves as I do._

Hours later, they passed through the iron-gate. Erik placed his arm around her waist and ushered her to a carriage that waited under the spotlight of a full moon at the top of the narrow street. When she was seated within, Jade's eyes met his.

_What if he were to come with me tonight?_ It was a bold idea. A thrill ran through her as she pictured him taking his rightful place at her side.The thought of his power and grace as he moved among average men stirred her, and she impulsively opened her mouth to coax him into the carriage.

Before she could speak, he took her hand and peeled back the edge of the black cotton glove, exposing her inner wrist. Sensuously, his lips stroked the translucent skin that sheathed the pulsing blood. Then he raised his head and looked into her eyes. She held her breath.

"Be careful, my little wife," he said in a low voice. Then turning, he was gone.

0000

Le Grande Café was situated in the center of Paris on the Boulevard des Capucines with a clear view of the Opéra Populaire from its doors. A small crowd gathered near its brightly lit entrance. When Jade's carriage pulled up, it was half past eleven. Standing amid the heavy foot traffic on the sidewalk, she scanned the carriages beneath the streetlamps across the boulevard. After a moment, she found Manette's face peering out from one. Stepping off the curb, she worked her way past the horses and carriages to her friend.

"Jade!" Manette cried. It was the first they'd seen each other since Jade's accident.

After helping her friend out of the carriage, she embraced Manette.

"You look well," Manette declared with shining eyes. Jade smiled and gently patted her shoulder.

Manette carefully smoothed her hair, and pushed a decorative comb further into the brown mass as she gave her friend a broad smile. Her gold skirt peeped beneath the dark cloak that hid her spreading figure. "I know I should be in bed nursing my ankles but I could not pass up the opportunity to dine here!"

In spite of the late hour, the restaurant was filled to capacity. It had opened earlier that year, and had become a tremendous success with the Parisian café crowd.

When then host spied Manette, he stiffened and coolly looked over the glasses perched on his long nose. With an impatient gesture, he signaled a tall man on the other side of the room. Moments later, Manette was seated in an upholstered chair as they waited for their table, and for Jean to arrive.

The large room was packed with black suits, stylish coifs, and mounds of satin trains. Gaslights blazed from elegantly detailed, brass fittings, and the thick, figured carpet muffled the brisk steps of waiters carrying food to the tables. A swell of voices swept the room, flooding its corners with the emphatic comments of political pundits.

Manette sat there, absorbing the activity, and beaming. Jade affectionately pressed her friend's shoulder, and glanced at her large belly that was covered by her cloak. _She looks well. _She was a little concerned that all this excitement would tire her friend.

Jade was examining the rich wooden accents of the room, when she saw Raoul and Christine de Chagny coming through the door. Her jaw dropped.

_Of course, _she thought wryly.

Raoul noticed her. After speaking to Christine, the two approached.

"Mme Marsolais, it is pleasure to see you again," he said warmly. Christine was at his side wearing a charming smile.

After their visit at the holiday party in December, Jade had received an invitation to visit the de Chagnys at their home. It had arrived at the beginning of her mourning over Gillian's death, when she'd still had the mental resources to decline. After her wedding, she'd sent them a courtesy note informing them of her new marital status.

"It is a pleasure to see you both again," she replied smoothly. Turning to Manette, she said, "Mme Dubois, may I present to you the Vicomte and Vicomtesse de Chagny.

Raoul took Manette's hand and kissed it briefly. Then he gazed at the two women with bright eyes.

"We have reservations for five but our friends will not be joining us," Raoul explained. "It would give us great pleasure if you would dine with us tonight."

Jade shot a look through the restaurant's window to the street beyond. It was a small miracle that Erik had allowed her out this evening without supervision. There was the possibility that he had followed her, and seen the de Chagnys enter the restaurant.

To sup with Raoul and Christine was to play with fire.

Her eyes met Christine's, and she suddenly realized that she badly wanted to know about Erik and his diva. Ever since she'd met him, Jade had been traveling a twisted path in her dealings with others as she'd tried to protect him and honor his requests. Somewhere in that process, her bolder self, the part of her that was intensely curious and unafraid to take risks, had been shelved. With it had gone the opportunity to learn about her husband's past.

Manette was eagerly looking up at her, obviously delighted at the prospect of dining with this agreeable young couple. Immediately, Jade made up her mind.

"That is very kind of you. We would love to join you," she replied.

0000

"Will you and M Marsolais be leaving Paris for the summer?" Raoul asked as he cut his fillet of beef.

"No. We plan to stay here."

Gazing at Raoul, Jade couldn't help but compare the perfect contours of his face to those of Erik's.

_Did Christine see Erik's face before the night that the opera house burned?_ She was still trying to understand how it had happened that Erik had lost Christine's love when he'd so skillfully won hers.

She caught Christine's eye, and smiled at her. Christine's face lit up, and then she turned her radiant gaze to Manette who was telling her about her work with the Opéra Populaire's ballet corps.

_She's lonely, _Jade surmised as she noticed how readily Christine was responding to Manette's attentions. _From opera diva to vicomtesse._

To her right, Jean was twisting in his seat as he listened to the conversations that surrounded their table. The pungent scent of politics was heavy in the air.

"Will you be returning to the Opéra before we disband for summer?" Jean asked Jade as he forked a saucy bite of crepe into his mouth.

Manette turned from Christine and intently watched her friend.

"Will I still be of use to you?" Jade replied cautiously as she feigned interest in her half eaten duck. She hadn't spoken with Erik about the matter. There was a good chance that he would refuse her request.

Jean studied her for a moment and nodded. "If you'd prefer, we can continue our work at another place. I've just acquired a studio, and there's room for you there."

"How wonderful for you!" she exclaimed, and then reached over and squeezed his arm.

"You are painting?" Raoul asked.

She shook her head. "No. I need to learn to draw first."

"She's started to sketch, and she has a good eye," Jean said as he fondly gazed at her. "The next step is to work with a model."

"Our summer home has lovely ponds. Several of Raoul's younger cousins have painted them. " Christine added.

"Yes." Raoul chimed in with enthusiasm. "You and M Marsolais are welcome to visit with us. Our ponds rival the ones at the Tuileries. It is a pleasant change from Paris."

"You are very kind," Jade replied. As she eyed the elegant couple, she imagined traipsing through the countryside with an easel. It was a very tempting offer.

Glancing at Jean, she noticed the smug smile that was growing on his face. All night he had reigned in his impish side but that familiar twinkle was back in his eyes.

With a pugnacious air, he turned to Raoul. "M de Chagny, have you an opinion concerning the paintings of Edouard Manet?"

0000

After their meal, they lingered over coffee and discussed the arts.

A half hour later, Jade rode back to the opera house. She was considering Raoul and Christine's invitation to visit them in Paris before they left for the summer. It might be her last chance to spend time with Christine and learn about her ties to Erik.

_If I'm to understand Erik, I should know his history._

She'd spent the last fifteen minutes arguing with herself over whether it was necessary to search out his past. In spite of that deficit, they'd managed to form a friendship and a marriage.

Nonetheless, theirs had been a relationship fraught with misunderstandings, at least on her part.

_If I visit the de Chagnys, I will be deceiving him._

It wouldn't be easy to accomplish such a subterfuge. Erik was too bright to be fooled for long. Still, something inside of her would not let the idea go in spite of the risk.

Of course, the most rational approach would be for her to simply ask Erik about his past. However, there was a catch. Once she opened that avenue of discussion, he would probably wish to know about hers as well.

She had a secret that she couldn't reveal, even to him.

Stepping from the carriage, Jade looked down the narrow street that ran beside the opera house. Blue moonlight edged the black shadow that hid the side of the building. While she listened to the clatter of departing hooves, Erik glided from the darkness.

As he drew near, it came to her that no matter what she learned of his past, she would probably never fully understand him.

Firmly, he took her hand, and led her back to their home.

It was late, and Jade was tired. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she watched Erik's bent head as he unbuttoned her skirt. Undressing her had become a nightly ritual for him.

Gently, he slid the bodice off. She shivered a little when his finger tips lightly brushed her skin as he painstakingly arranged the nightgown around her shoulders. Then he swept the hair from her face and gazed at her for a moment. With large eyes, she gazed back, wondering if it would be tonight that he would come for her. She knew how it would be. He would carry her to his room while she slept, and she'd awaken in his arms when he kissed her. The memory of him passionately holding her close gave her goose bumps.

After she was settled in bed, Erik pulled out a book and began to read. The hypnotic rise and fall of his voice soothed her desire, and soon she fell asleep.

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The next day, they were seated in a small, dingy shop illuminated by two small lamps.

Erik was in the corner, watching as the Chinaman hovered next to Jade. The black silk costume the man wore swished as he moved with quick, brusque motions. From beneath his tight silk cap hung a long pigtail that fell to his waist.

"Put tongue out," the little man demanded with a heavy accent. Jade's eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded his expressionless face. Then she complied. When he'd finished studying that quivering muscle to his satisfaction, he grasped her wrist. Placing his fingers tips on its inner aspect, he repeatedly pressed and released the flesh beneath his digits until her hand tingled. Then he did the same to the other one.

"Lay," he commanded as he pointed to the padded table. Jade stretched out, and watched him with glittering eyes.

After he unfurled the roll of purple velvet on a nearby small table, he turned to her. The light glinted off the array of needles that he held. Startled, Jade nearly hopped off of the table, but was thwarted by Erik who was suddenly at her side, and gently restraining her.

"There is nothing to fear, my dear," he murmured into her ear. "It will only hurt a little, and you will feel better afterwards."

With wide eyes, Jade stared intensely at her husband. Then she sighed, closed them, and lay very still while Erik gently stroked her brow. There was the sudden prick of metal entering the bare flesh of her arms and legs, and then a dull ache. Heaviness followed and her limbs became leaden.

Eventually that sensation was transformed into a lightness that drifted throughout her body. Instead of feeling firmly planted to the table, she began to float. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the shadowy ceiling as she listened to the voices coming from the next room. Erik was speaking to the man with strange words and a sing song intonation. _How beautiful!_ she thought as a giggle rose from her throat.

She rode the bliss and lost all sense of time until the strange man returned, and withdrew the needles. They were alone in the room. Sitting up, she put on her stockings while he silently watched her. _If he were a gentleman, he would give me my privacy. _But the irritation that she would have normally felt towards him was absent, replaced by a sense of peace.

When she finished dressing, he stood there scrutinizing her. Jade curiously returned his stare.

"You dog," he finally quipped.

Stunned, she struggled to comprehend why this yellow faced man was suddenly insulting her.

Pointing to the other room, he continued. "He tiger." Briefly, he rubbed his hands together as if expressing satisfaction.

"Dog good for tiger. You good wife," he finished. Then he turned and left the room.

0000

Later, in the carriage ride home, Jade sat next to Erik as he held her hand. His long, pale fingers were warm on that bright April day.

She was in a profound, dream-like state that mere fatigue could not fully account for. Normally she would have remained silent, but the curious happenings of that afternoon needed an explanation.

"He called me a dog," she said to the carriage wall.

Erik shook a little as he chuckled. "And he told you that I am a tiger?" he replied.

"Yes. He also said that dogs are good for tigers and that I am a good wife."

"Indeed," he stated as his fingers began to sensuously stroke her wrist. "He was speaking of Chinese astrology, my dear. He believes that when a person is born in a certain year, they have particular characteristics. You were born in the year of the dog and I in the year of the tiger."

"What did he do to me, Erik?"

His fingers ran up her neck and followed the line of her jaw. This was the closest they had been physically since the night before her accident.

"It is an ancient method of healing. The needles release blocked physiological processes that are the result of injury to the body."

_And perhaps to the heart as well, _Jade mused. The sorrow that had plagued her had lifted.

Leaning against him, she shut her eyes and allowed the fatigue to claim her.

When they were back in their home, she went directly to bed.

0000

Hours later, Jade awoke feeling wonderful.

There'd been dreams of clouds, and sky, in which she swooped above the earth while searching for something. Losing herself in the sensations of wind and dizzying heights, she finally settled to earth, with a feeling of completeness.

It was seven o'clock in the evening. Slipping into a silk nightgown, she heard the faintest sound of music.

Erik was seated at the organ, softly playing. She stood in the kitchen door, and marveled at the delicacy of the strain, as if it was the product of a tiny instrument rather than that of the pipe organ. Her nightgown swished as she took a step towards him. The white mask was tinged with a rose, reflected from his blood red, silk robe.

_A tiger, _she thought, a little bemused. She had seen pictures of that great beast, and the label suited him.

She was still feeling the effects of the Chinaman's treatment, and felt light enough to walk on water.

After gazing at Erik for a long moment, Jade turned and went to his bedroom. It was ready for bedtime with a scant half dozen candles burning. She blew them out, and removed her robe and nightgown. Sliding between the cool satin sheets, Jade stared at the dim hallway light while listening to the soft refrain. The enormous bed made her feel tiny.

She was nearly asleep when the music stopped, and Erik entered the room, so she didn't notice him. Without warning, his warm skin was against hers as he took her into his arms. Sighing, she snuggled close to his chest and rubbed her belly against his.

His whistling breath told his excitement. Half awake, she reached down and found his engorged member which she lightly stroked. After a few moments of playing with him, she fully awoke, and noticed that there was something different. Instead of naked flesh, his organ was encased in a thick, tight skin. Curious, she tugged and squeezed him until he groaned.

"What is this?"

"Protection," he replied hoarsely. "It is to prevent you from becoming pregnant until your body is fully healed."

Smiling at his thoughtfulness she gave him an extra squeeze and chuckled briefly when air hissed between his teeth. Releasing him, she firmly pushed him onto his back.

Something strange was moving inside of her, an intense need. It had always been Erik who had initiated their sexual activities, but tonight she couldn't wait.

_He will think I'm a wanton,_ flashed through her mind as she crawled on top of him and straddled his waist. But the darkness hid her and for once she didn't care. After a minute of rubbing her sensitive parts against his pelvis, he responded with a bucking motion as if he could capture her cleft in that position. Laughing softly, she bent over and kissed him deeply to quiet his struggle. His mouth opened and their tongues met. Moaning, she continued to rub against him and enjoyed the slickness that resulted from her determined friction.

Erik grabbed her breasts and squeezed. The slight pain was delicious and she rubbed harder, panting. He was strangely passive beneath her, which allowed her to move freely. His well placed touching was egging her on to bolder actions. _I'm behaving like a whore._ It was as if her sense of propriety had been ripped from her as she desperately sought pleasure from him. Meanwhile, his fingers roamed across her, pinching and twisting bits of flesh which heightened her urge.

She was close to her release and he hadn't even entered her. Stopping, she slid off and lay next to him, breathing hard. "Come inside of me," she whispered.

"Do you want me, Jade?" His voice was warm honey melding with her senses as he fondled her.

"Yes. Erik, please," she gasped as his fingers stroked her wetness.

Positioning himself over her, he entered her hard and fast, and she squeaked from the impact. Gone was the gentle lover. He took her roughly, using her as she had earlier used him. Then he changed his rhythm. Scooping her butt up with one hand, he guided her hips into a grinding motion which matched his. It maddened her, and she grasped his back and raked her nails along it. Crying out, he growled and moved faster.

Her release was violent. She was thrown back into a dream, tumbling through space with Erik deep inside of her. In the distance he was calling to her, forcing her to come back to him. Careening back to earth, she gasped and clung to him with her legs wrapped around his hips and her nails dug into his back. If she could have reached him she would have bitten him as well.

When they finished, he clasped her to his chest, and buried her face into his neck as he fiercely exhaled. He held her so tightly that she could scarcely breathe.

A moment later, she squirmed from his grasp, and inhaled deeply. It felt wonderful to be alive!

Staring down at him, she stroked his chest, and gazed at the mask which was the thinnest gray in that dim light. She had grown to love that piece of leather. But now it was in the way, hiding him from her.

_I want him naked, just as I was naked before him tonight._

Slowly, she reached for it.

Erik caught her hand and brought it to his lips. Then gathering her into his arms, he turned her away from him and held her from behind.

Sighing, Jade stared into the darkness until the even rhythm of his breathing lulled her to sleep.

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**A/N: M rating**

**A historical note: Le Grand Café opened in Paris in 1875. It still exists.**

**Dear readers, my desktop died three weeks ago, and I've been sharing a laptop. It's slowed me down a bit. However, I will continue to update this story.**


	55. Chapter 55 Trust

**Chapter 55 Trust**

Erik opened his eyes to a twisted mass of hair. Pulling Jade to him, he brushed it from the back of her neck and slowly inhaled her scent.

Their previous night's coupling was still fresh in his mind. Covering her belly with his hands, he rubbed his hardness against her rump. Moaning softly, she briefly nestled against him, and then settled back into her dreams.

With a sigh he released her and left their bed.

Facing the mirror, he tied his cravat while coolly gazing at the mask. Then he glanced at the bundle of blankets on the bed, and hoped she would awaken and bid him good bye. Better yet, she might ask him to forget his morning business and stay with her. But that was unlikely since she never tried to sway him from his plans.

On the way out, Erik paused and appraised the front room. Since Jade had come, it had acquired a comfortable air of domesticity. Some of her possessions were scattered about—books she was reading, a new sketch pad lying on the table. Last night she'd sat there practicing her drawing, and using various objects as models. One was an exquisite, seventeenth century carved jade tiger that he had recently acquired. As she had sketched, he had watched her small hands effortlessly manage the charcoal with sure, quick movements. Later when they were in bed, he had kissed those hands over and over again while he slowly loved her.

As he paddled the boat across the lake, he considered what lay ahead. Yesterday, Jules had notified him that the report that he'd waited months for had arrived. They were to meet this morning and discuss the findings. Following that, he and Jade would travel to the provinces. Then tomorrow Jade would attend the wedding of her friend Marie Aubert, the sister of his former rival.

When she'd said she wanted to go, she'd given him a determined look. Her affection for that family was pronounced, and it was clear she'd already made up her mind. At the time, he'd considered the trouble that could follow if he refused. There had been only one disagreement between them, and he was of a mind to keep it that way.

Outside the cavern, Erik strode through the light rain to the Place de l'Opéra, and entered a two seated cab. The heavy, sour odor of previous passengers blended with the dank air, and assaulted his nostrils as he stared out the window. Bobbing black umbrellas cluttered the sidewalks with a backdrop of soot streaked shop windows. Then the zinc colored sky opened, and poured down its load, soaking wool trousers and sodden skirts as pedestrians scurried for shelter.

In the office, he tossed aside his cloak and faced Jules who sat behind the broad desk. Without a word Jules pushed a thick stack of papers towards him. Taking a seat, Erik stretched out his long legs, and rapidly flipped through the pages.

"There is nothing conclusive here," Erik said impatiently. Brusquely pushing the papers aside, he arched his eyebrow, and waited.

Jules nodded and replied, "At this point, it would probably be beneficial to hire an additional man. Several more sites need to be examined. When we find the right one, we'll have an extra man to assist with the operation."

_If we find it,_ Erik mulled.The project was sorely testing his patience.

"Do it."

The rest of the morning they discussed their latest constructions in the department of the Seine. When they finished, Jules poured out their customary brandy, and the two men settled into comfortable leather chairs.

"Have you decided which of the two properties you will purchase first? There's already one bid on the Paris property," Jules remarked while sipping his drink.

Erik stared past him at a painting on the wall. It was a Eugène Delacroix that depicted a North African town of sand colored buildings capped by an intensely blue sky. His eyes lost their sharpness as he gazed at it. The bright, enticing colors reminded him of Mediterranean days when light winds blew off warm water and carried light into the chilly recesses of his mind. He blinked and returned to the present and the curious eyes of his companion.

_Jade loved the rolling hill country that we picnicked in last month. However, a home in the city would be more convenient for us._

"Put a bid on the Paris property. The land values are stable in the countryside so that there is no need to rush on that one."

He downed the last of his brandy and rose. Jules' eyes followed him to the door. After donning his cloak, Erik briefly returned the younger man's gaze.

_Yes Jules. I am at last happy._

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On the following day, Jade sat in the reception hall, and tapped her toe to the music. She'd been drinking throughout the day, and was feeling light hearted from it. The large room had plenty of others who were doing the same as they took advantage of the fine offerings from the Aubert estate. Next to her sat Pierre's sister-in-law, Therése Aubert, who'd spent the day dashing from home to church to the hall as she managed wedding affairs. At that moment, she was resting with a tight, alert expression while her youngest daughter sat on her lap.

In front of them, four couples were dancing the quadrille. As each couple took its turn, Jade studied their quick feet. The beauty of that dance was that individuals could improvise and add their own variation of steps as long as they completed the pattern. One couple, a man with slick black hair and a young woman in a blue dress, was particularly creative. Her own gown rustled as her legs moved beneath it while she matched their steps.

Thanks to Erik, she was blissfully free of her own music, and could fully appreciate that country tune.

Last night after they'd arrived at the inn from Paris, he'd suggested they take a walk along one of the dark roads. Upon coming to a field, Erik had veered off and pulled her along. Moments later he was pacing the ground as he searched for something. Under the thin moon, his black caped figure was barely discernible, and she'd strained to separate him from the darkness. Returning to her, he'd encircled her waist with his long fingers and with a low, musical voice had said, "You may dance here, my dear."

Beneath a cloudless, starry sky, she'd danced out her music while Erik stood guard,

Lazily, Jade looked past the plump figures of local matrons who wore their Sunday best, and found Pierre leaning against a glass paned door that led to the garden. The indirect light softened his handsome features. Their eyes locked for a minute until his brother Lucien pulled him away.

She shifted her attention, and found the tall, dark haired woman dressed in the latest Parisian fashion. _Madeleine. _

Madeleine's eyes were also roaming the hall and settled on Pierre whose back was to her.

_It's bad enough that I'm here, but to have Madeleine as well! _Jade pondered as she noted his stiff back.

No one had told her that Madeleine was related to the groom, and that she would be at the wedding. Jade had discovered it while sitting with Pierre in the church as they waited for the bride to arrive. The sudden stiffening of her friend had alerted her. Glancing at the groom's pews directly across the aisle from them, she'd seen Madeleine taking a seat. Immediately, she'd recognized Pierre's old love. Her eyes had darted to her companion who was staring at the altar ahead, and ignoring the two women who flanked him.

"Jade, have you seen the gifts?" Therése's clipped words pulled her from her thoughts. The auburn haired woman was flushed with pride. "Madeleine gave her enough furniture to furnish one of her rooms! She says that your gift is also splendid and she can't decide which pattern to choose."

Jade had brought Marie two samples of Baccarat crystal. Once Marie made her choice, she would have a handsome dinner set that would rival any in the province.

Marie was sitting across the room wrapped in luscious white satin that complimented her curves. She had a languorous look about her as if she wanted nothing more than to stretch out on a wool stuffed mattress. With a knowing look, Jade considered what would follow after the reception. The groom was a man in his late twenties with a serious air about him. For her friend's sake, she hoped that there was more to him than that quiet exterior.

Shutting her eyes, she daydreamed about her own wedding night.

There was a sound of a throat being cleared, and she opened her eyes to Michel Aubert who stood in front of her with an eager glint in his eye. As he pushed a dark forelock from his forehead, she glanced at his slender hips outfitted in wool trousers.

"I noticed that you haven't danced yet. Will you join me in the next one? It's a cotillion."

Smiling up at him, Jade took his hand. She recalled how lightly he had held her when they danced together at her wedding reception. _He's perfect. _She couldn't dance with Pierre because it might infuriate Erik, but Michel was safe.

Turning to Therése, she was surprised by a frozen smile and sharp eyes. The woman's sudden hostility caught her off guard._ Why does it bother her if I dance with her son?_

Michel escorted her to the dance floor as she mulled over her relationship with Pierre's family. They'd seemed to have forgiven her for not having married Pierre. Throughout the day, she'd been treated graciously as an honored guest. Were there hidden resentments?

The women around her were lifting their skirts, and exposing feet and petticoats in preparation for the cotillion. Shrugging off her concern, Jade threw back her shoulders and smiled boldly at her bright eyed companion. It was rare when she had the opportunity to dance with another. She intended to make the most of it.

Several dances later, Lucien stole her away from Michel for the quadrille. Unlike his son, he seemed preoccupied and indifferent to the music as he mechanically followed the pattern. When the music stopped he wasted no time guiding her back to her chair where he took a seat beside her. By then, Therèse had vanished.

"We've finished planting the vines. Would you care to see the vineyard tomorrow?" Lucien asked.

_Will Pierre be there?_ A trip to the vineyard would be an excellent end to her brief visit. Tomorrow she would attend a breakfast with Pierre's family, and after that Erik and she would return home.

"I will ask M. Marsolais tonight if he is willing to delay our trip home."

"Of course. Please tell him that he is welcome to come as well," Lucien formally added. Bowing stiffly, he left. Jade watched his retreating form, and puzzled over his abrupt behavior.

A half hour later, she was walking the dim narrow corridor that ran from the powder room to the hall. The light from the hall was suddenly blocked, and she watched as the outline of a portly man approached. Half way down the hall, he stopped and leaned against the wall for support. His eyes were half closed, and he looked as if he was trying not to pass out. She couldn't remember seeing him earlier at the party.

Feeling a little muddle headed from the wine, she paused and waited for him to move. When he didn't, she tried to ease past him. The moment she was next to him, he swayed and crashed into her, pinning her against the wall.

"You dance a pretty step my girl," he said while lowering his face to hers. A chill ran through her as his hand moved from her waist to her breast.

Clenching her fists, she prepared to shove him off. Then the man jerked backwards. Staring past him, Jade saw Pierre gripping the man's shoulders as he spun him around.

"I think you've lost your way," Pierre said evenly as he hauled the fellow down the corridor to the reception hall.

Jade trailed behind, and watched Pierre firmly plant the unhappy man in a chair. Then he strode to his brother, and briefly spoke with him before returning to her side.

"Come with me," he said gently and took her arm.

He led her through the patio doors and down a graveled path bordered by rose bushes. The low sun splashed light onto the drab wings of sparrows that flitted through the greenery as they busily hunted their evening meal. Their chorus of high pitched, excited chirps pierced the calm until they took their arguments to a distant tree.

The path ended at a small stone fountain encased in bright rays. Next to it was a worn wooden bench. Sitting down, Jade faced the last burst of the day, as she leaned back on her palms, and peered up at Pierre. His face was hidden by the glare, and then he was seated beside her.

They watched the tiny stream spill from the dish and drop to the pool below. The silvery, repetitive sound cleared the fog from her mind.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Jade."

Sitting upright, she reached over and squeezed his hand. "No harm was done. You're always there when I need you," she replied sincerely.

He shrugged and tenderly looked down at her.

"You looked happy when you were dancing with Michel. Was it worth the long trip from Paris?" He rubbed his fingers against each other while he spoke, a nervous habit she hadn't seen before.

"It wasn't so long. I only wish we could stay for a few more days."

"Lucien told me that you might be visiting our vineyard tomorrow." His finger rubbing had stopped, and he was gazing at her intently. The light had softened to a rosy tint which covered his shoulders and hair.

She nodded and held his gaze. This was the first time they'd been alone since the day Erik had had his jealous outburst. Since then, she'd made a point to only visit with him when they were in the presence of mutual friends.

_I've missed you dear friend. _Had he adjusted to her marriage? Was there someone else he was now interested in? Back at the hall, she'd seen half a dozen women eagerly looking at him when the dancing began.

_I wish I could tell you about my life with Erik._ _For the first time, I'm content. If it wasn't for your love, I would never have let him near._ _I owe you my happiness._

Then an idea came to her.

"Pierre, have you ever had your portrait painted?"

He leaned forward with a curious smile. "No. Do you need a model?"

She shook her head, and continued to stare. She was already sketching him in her mind.

"Jean says I can start working with a model next week. When I'm skilled enough, I'd like to paint you. You'll have to come to the studio. Then when I've finished, I'll give you the painting."

Shrugging good naturedly, he took her hand and affectionately squeezed it. "I would be honored. Let me know when you're ready. Would Saturdays be convenient?"

She nodded.

They smiled at each other, and waited for the light to completely vanish before returning to the hall.

0000

The carriage pulled up to the inn and Jade hopped out. It was still relatively early, just after nine in the evening. She was tired and looking forward to a soft bed and Erik's arms.

Unlocking the heavy door to their room, she pushed it open to find the fireplace lit and Erik seated next to it and reading. He looked up and tracked her with his eyes as she hung her cloak in the oak armoire. Crossing the room, Jade laid her hand on his shoulder.

"It was a lovely wedding, Erik." His tender look of the morning was gone, replaced with a distant, inscrutable expression. _Please don't be jealous._

He rose, faced her, and pressed her shoulders between his large hands. "You look tired, my dear. Come." Leading her to the bed, he began to unbutton her dress. Jade sighed and shifted from one foot to the next as she gazed at the room. Next to the overstuffed chair were a pile of journals, and a sketch pad. On a small table sat a snifter and a bottle of brandy. The sweet fragrance of wood smoke laced with burning oil from the three lamps fanned out from the fireplace. Glancing at the drawn wine colored drapes, she wondered if Erik had spent the entire day in that cozy room.

When he finished with the buttons, Erik pulled the gown over her head and hung it in the armoire. Jade sat on the bed, and removed her stockings while she watched him unbutton his trousers. After shedding her petticoats, she crawled under the covers while he blew out the lamps.

It promised to be a cool, early May night. The outside's chill was still with her, and his warm nakedness was wonderful when he slid in beside her. His light chest hair tickled her breasts. It was exciting to be away from their home in a strange bed with the world just outside their window. A shifting patchwork of shadows covered Erik's face and the dusky scent of wood smoke in his black hair tickled her nose. When he kissed her, he tasted faintly of brandy.

"Did it go well at the reception?" he murmured into her hair.

Jade blinked. _He was there._

Stiffening, she lay silently for a moment with her mind racing. Then she tentatively asked, "You saw Pierre and me in the garden?"

Erik's lips brushed her forehead.

"Tell me about the reception, my dear."

She sighed. "There was an incident in which a drunken guest fell against me, and pushed me into a wall. Pierre pulled him away, and escorted him back to his seat."

When he continued to gently stroke her with no further remarks, she began to relax. They fondled each other for awhile, getting reacquainted after the long day of separation. After several minutes of kissing, Jade propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him.

"Erik, there is something I wish to know." A day of mingling with strangers and imbibing a generous amount of wine had made her bold. "I've tried to guess this since the day I met you. How old are you?"

Erik kissed her brow. After a long moment, he answered with a deep, serious tone. "I am 32." Then his fingers, which were stroking her breasts, suddenly dived beneath her arms in a firm tickle. With a squeak, she tried to squirm out of his grasp but he held her tightly. Ending the attack, he kissed the top of her head.

"I will turn 33 at the end of May. How old did you think I was?" He finished with a low chuckle.

"Old," she replied. "But sometimes young. Like a magician."

Snorting, he playfully flipped her on her back, and she wriggled beneath him. Then she stopped and intently gazed up at him.

"If you ever wish to tell me about your past, I will listen," she calmly stated.

"Perhaps someday." His hands moved across her with a familiar rhythm, and she arched into them.

He suckled her earlobe and breathed into her ear, "Are you happy now?" The pace picked up as he massaged her thighs and breasts with a smooth intensity. His dark smile made her breathless. _Tonight it will be a whirlwind. All his pent up restlessness needs expression._

"Jade, get on top of me," he coaxed as he firmly grasped her rump. It was a position they'd done before that she'd found very pleasurable.

Straddling him, she lowered herself onto his member and teased him with her wet cleft until he made a strangled sound. Then she pushed him inside of her and began a slow, rocking motion. After a minute, he moved his hips and strained to match her rhythm. His impatient thrusts stimulated and amused her. He seemed much younger as he lay beneath her, more like a boy than a powerful man. She loved that she was the one controlling their pleasure.

"Slowly," she whispered. She could do this all night—rocking the two of them with him inside of her. He wasn't wearing a sheath for protection and she was glad for that. It was time to move on and try again. She wanted a baby in her arms—a bright child that would grow to be a tall man with his father's eyes.

She bent over him, and her hair covered his chest as she kissed him deeply. His hands moved under that heavy veil and worked her breasts until she moaned into his mouth.

The heated room flushed their skin, and they became slick with sweat. Jade held Erik's face between her hands and kissed him hard while twisting her hips and thrusting down on his shaft. In her abandon, she inadvertently dug the leather mask into his face. A sharp hissing sound alerted her to his pain.

Her hands flew off, and she immediately slid off of him.

"I'm sorry! Oh, I shouldn't have touched it," she gasped.

"No. It is not your fault," he retorted as he caught her hand. After kissing it, he scooped her up and held her close for a moment. Then he placed her hand on his bare cheek.

"It was clumsy of me. I can see why you don't want me to touch you there."

Gently, he laid her hand on the mask. Covering her hand with his, Erik pressed it and said quietly, "It is fine here."

For the next few minutes with his guidance, Jade explored his masked face.

"Erik…" She stopped.

He was staring at her with an intensity that nearly wounded. Inhaling deeply, she continued. "Why do you still wear it? I've seen your face. If you remove it, I won't leave."

When he didn't reply she laid her head on his chest. He stroked her hair, and then tangling his fingers in it, he asked hoarsely, "Do you wish to sleep now?"

"No." Jade hugged him, and felt his erection inch up her thigh. Reaching for it, she tugged at him until he groaned.

"Wait," he said. He was out of bed and at the dresser searching for something. Returning, he sat on the bed's edge, and sheathed his shaft with a membrane.

"No," she said firmly.

With half closed eyes, Erik stared at her fingers as Jade peeled it off. Pulling him down on the bed, she stretched out next to him and stroked his erection. Hungrily, he fixed his eyes on hers.

"Are you certain about this?" he asked. Disbelief registered on his face along with a twisted look of hope.

"Yes." Her eyes deliberately traveled back and forth from the mask to his bare face, and stopped with a questioning look.

"I love you Erik. I will always love you," she quietly stated.

Tenderly, he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her. His hands were trembling but the kiss was steady and sure. When it was over, they held each other and listened to their breathing and heartbeats and the crackling fire on the hearth.

Erik reached between her legs and stroked her. Sighing, Jade opened them and rolled into his hardness. He obliged and entered her smoothly, and began the slow, thrusting stimulation. Her body hadn't cooled down from the previous joining, and she was soon close to a release. Under his steady attention the delicious tension stretched on. Shutting her eyes, Jade reveled in the fact that one of the barriers between them was finally gone.

_Everything happens for a reason, _she thought as her body flushed and shook. _God took our child away because I wasn't ready to love him completely. _

They lat on their sides and faced each other. Jade dug her fingers into his shoulder and goaded him on, as his face contorted from the intensity of their coupling.

Suddenly, Erik stopped. Taking Jade's hand, he laid it on the mask so that her fingers rested on its edge. With his hand over hers, he guided her fingers beneath the leather, curled them, and then slowly pulled. Together, they removed the mask.

Rough shadows cloaked crevices and bony tumors which turned livid red where the firelight struck. It was a demon's face.

As she stared at his disfigurement, a profound gratitude filled her. _This is why he is mine. If he were perfect, he would never have loved me. He would be with his diva instead._

Pulling him to her, Jade kissed him. Erik hesitated for a moment, and then grasped her face with both hands as he plunged his tongue into her mouth.

Releasing her face, he ferociously thrust into her while gazing at her with a look of triumph.

Her release came, and Erik kept on—pushing inside, touching, kissing. He was molding her with pleasure and pain. The second release followed and her eyes sprung open. The red half of his face joined the white—a split image of devil and angel, straining to possess her. Closing her eyes, she listened to his voice that started softly and soon changed to raw intensity.

"You are mine, Jade. You will always be mine. I am in your blood. You will never leave me." His mouth covered hers in a crushing kiss.

She was beginning to feel battered—a sacrifice to his need to completely have her. _This is where we become husband and wife, not that ceremony before the mayor and priest. Our marriage is sealed in trust and blood._

Through blurred eyes she watched as a great shudder ran through Erik. When he stiffened, she wrapped her arms about him, and with renewed vigor, thrust her hips to meet his. With quivering lips, he cried her name. Then he sank into the bed.

As she pressed against him, something slipped out from between them. In her mind's eye, Jade saw an eerie shadow briefly hover above them, and then glide out of the room. Immediately, she crossed herself and prayed, _Dear God, let it not return. Let him remain whole._

Erik's breathing slowed while she stroked the back of his head, and murmured small, unintelligible sounds to him. A little later, he surrounded her with his arms and kissed her. The intensity had vanished, and Jade was finding it hard to keep her eyes open.

Snuggling close to him, she said, "I love you."

Darkness descended, and pulled her into sleep. As the shimmering edge of consciousness receded, a voice echoed back, "As I do you."

0000

The next morning, Jade awoke to warm sunlight streaming through the inn's windows. Blinking away the sleepy haze, she stared up at the ceiling. Then she blinked again with astonishment.

Above her on the beams were the soft fluttering wings of dozens of butterflies.

Pushing herself up against the headboard, she swiveled her head and took in the room that was dotted with yellow and white paper thin bodies.

"How?" she gasped.

Then she spied Erik who was seated in the stuffed chair by the fireplace and watching her. His mask was back in place and he was fully clothed. Rising, he glided to the bed and stared down at her with a sensuous smile.

"Good morning, my dear Jade. Welcome back." Sitting on the bed, he caressed her face and bent down to kiss her.

* * *

**A/N: M rated material.**

**Dear readers, this was the chapter that refused to be born. Writers block, chaos at home, computer woes. So sorry, but hopefully it won't happen again. After a long wait, I hope you enjoy it.**


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